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LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 


Chap. ?_?r_7 Copyright Ko. 


UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



HER VERY BEST 


BY AMY E. BLANCHARD 

¥ 

TWO GIRLS GIRLS TOGETHER 
BETTY OF WYE 

Illustrated. 121110. Cloth, ;^i.oo per volume 


THREE PRETTY MAIDS 

WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY ALICE BARBER 
STEPHENS 

AN INDEPENDENT DAUGHTER 
MISS VANITY 

Illustrated. lamo. Cloth, $1.25 per volume 





Here was the great city full of mystery ; full of life 


35 


HER VERY BEST 



AMY E. ;SlANCHARD 
>' ,, 

AUTHOR OF “MISS VANITY, “BETTY OF WYE, 
“AN INDEPENDENT DAUGHTER,’^ '‘TWO GIRLS,” ETC. 


WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY 

MARGARET F. WINNER 



PHILADELPHIA 

J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY 
1901 
L ' 


09407 

jlLibi^/ y kt1 Conare«i» 

| ■‘V7. i HECIk^EO 

’ NOV 1 1900 

OyyrfgH< mtfj 

JflpO V i t • 

,.a.v%rv.).^?A. 

I StCifND COPY. 

liMiMri tn 

0«0l« Ott'SlON, 

NOV 19 1900 


P 27 
.Ss -9 H 


Copyright, 1897, by A. E. Blanchard 
Copyright, 1900, by J. B. Lippincott Company 



\ 




EUECTROTYPCO AND PRINTED BY J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY, PHILADELPHIA, U.8.A. 


CONTENTS 

¥¥ ■ 

PART I 

CHAPTER page 

I. — A Light in the Sky 9 

II. — Roger’s Exploit 19 

III. — Fareweli£^ 29 

IV. — Fourth Floor Back 40 

V. — Better Plans 50 

VI. — What Roger was Doing 59 

VII. — Who carried the Boxes 67 

VIII. — Suspicions % . 77 

IX. — The Prize 88 

X. — A New Acquaintance 98 

XI. — Sad Hours 108 

XII. — Aunt Thankful 117 

XIII. — Honors 127 

PART II 

I. — A Sketching Party 136 

II. — The End of a Day 146 

HI. — To Boston 157 

IV. — A Chance Meeting 169 

V. — At Aunt Thankful’s 181 

VI. — Company 192 

VII. — Two Farewells 203 

VIII. — An Accident 214 

IX. — A Disclosure 226 

X. — For Old Love’s Sake 238 

XI. — In a Blizzard 249 

XII. — ^Two Weddings 261 





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LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 

PAGE 

Here was the great city full of mystery ; full of life Frontispiece 
“ It looks like a fire,” he replied . . . . 17 

Barbara read the Forty-sixth Psalm . . . .27 

After the feast, the girls set to work to make their sketches . 123 

Over them, a gjim warden, stood Aunt Thankful . . 233 

Stooping over the prostrate form, he raised her in his arms . 255 



• J 





I 


1 


• I 1 




■/ 



HER VERY BEST 

¥ 

PART I 


CHAPTER I 

A LIGHT IN THE SKY 

It was very quiet on the front porch where Bar- 
bara Palmer sat looking out upon the blue Potomac. 
The borer bees were sleepily droning about the rafters, 
and one might hear the far-off sound of a rooster crow- 
ing, or the rustle of the wind in the trees overhead, 
where there were two squirrels frisking, so confident 
of seclusion that their quick chatter was easily distin- 
guishable; but there was no other sound until, pres- 
ently, from the house came the sweetly sonorous tones 
of a violoncello, and then Barbara stirred from the 
corner where she had been sitting and arose to her feet 
with a sigh. 

She was a girl of about fifteen, with hazel eyes, and 
ruddy auburn locks which curled in little rings about a 
white forehead. She was small for her age, and the 
rusty black gown, which brought out the color of her 
hair, made her figure appear even more slight than it 
Oh, dear \” she sighed ; “ there is nothing to 

9 


was. 


10 


HER VERY BEST 


do but to get Fancy and go for a gallop. I wonder 
where Roger is. If he isn^t in one of his difficult 
moods perhaps he will go with me. Helen, have you 
seen Roger she asked, as a little girl about seven 
years old came around the corner of the house carry- 
ing something carefully in a battered old hat. 

The child looked up. “ I saw him go down into the 
orchard a while ago,’' she replied. Oh, Bab, I have 
a dear little duck that hasn’t any mother. I am going 
to show it to grandpa. See, isn’t it soft and fuzzy ?” 

“ You’d better not disturb grandpa,” Barbara re- 
turned. “ He is deep in the first movement, and you 
know he is good for an hour.” 

Helen sat down on the step and put her duckling on 
the ground. “ How it totters,” she said. “ It reminds 
me of old Aunt Dibby; she walks just that way.” 

Give me ducky to hold, and go ask Roger if he 
doesn’t want to take a ride,” said Barbara. Grandpa 
is not going to stop for one while, now that he has 
begun on that sonata, and we might as well have a 
scamper. I like music, but a steady diet of the fourth 
sonata does get monotonous; but then it’s pretty 
monotonous here anyhow.” 

“ I don’t think so,” said Helen. Why, Bab, every 
day there is something exciting. This morning Mrs. 
Ducky Daddies died and left her little ducky an orphan, 
and yesterday Speckle hatched out thirteen chicks. 
Then, sometimes, I go down to Mrs. Haynes’s when 
the butter doesn’t come, and it’s very exciting.” 

Barbara laughed. “ Yes, and sometimes grandpa 
breaks a string of his ’cello, and that is exciting for 
him; and sometimes Roger gets a mood, and then it 


A LIGHT IN THE SKY tt 

is exciting for me. So it’s pretty lively after all, isn’t 
it, Nell?” 

Roger hasn’t a mood to-day. He hasn’t once called 
the house a miserable old rat-trap.” 

Oh, he does that on rainy days when he can’t get 
out of doors. I’m very fond of the old brown shell 
myself, and grandpa thinks there never was such a 
place. How plainly we can see Sugar Loaf to-day. 
It will be fine for a canter. Run along, Nell. I’ll get 
on my skirt. Here, you’d better take ducky with you ; 
perhaps she will enjoy the walk.” And Helen’s stout 
little legs twinkled across the lawn toward the orchard 
as Barbara went in-doors. 

Meanwhile, the strains of the ’cello rose and fell 
upon the air, and as Barbara passed the door of the 
library she peeped in to see a tall, spare old gentleman, 
with mild blue eyes, a bald head, and a clean-shaven 
face, with his music before him. “ Anything you want 
at the village, grandpa?” Barbara asked as he paused 
in his occupation. “ Roger and I are going for the 
mail, — at least I am, whether Roger does or not.” 

The old gentleman smiled pleasantly. “ No, 
daughter, I think there is nothing I want,” he said. 
And Barbara’s head disappeared. 

“ Dear old grandpa,” she said to herself ; he never 
does want anything but his ’cello and his manuscript 
music ; and Roger wants everything, ‘ the earth and 
the fulness thereof.’ I’d like a few things myself, but 
I’m not going to complain ; only sometimes I wonder 
if we shall all keep on living here till we drop off, one 
after another, like leaves from a tree. Heigho ! what’s 
the use of thinking about it?” And a few moments 


12 


HER VERY BEST 


after Barbara appeared again upon the porch, having 
donned her riding-skirt and set a little cap upon her 
head. 

She found that Helen had returned from the or- 
chard. “Roger is going,’’ said the little girl to her 
sister. “ He has gone to get the horses. It is one of 
his lamb days.” 

“ It ought to be,” returned Barbara ; “ he raged 
like a lion all the first of the week. Here he comes. 
Good-by, Nell ; we’ll be back before very long. You’d 
better go down to the other house if you get lonely.” 
And Barbara turned to greet her brother, who had led 
the horses up to the block some little distance off. 

“ Isn’t it a fine day, Roger ?” she said, pleasantly, to 
the boy who, mounted upon his horse, was waiting for 
her. “We can take a good long ride. Is there any- 
where we haven’t been ?” 

“ Lots of places,” the boy replied, “ but we’ll have 
to be gone more than a day to get to them.” 

“ So smart !” Barbara returned. “ Never mind, 
Boggie, your time will come some day. You may 
travel the world over before you die; who knows?” 
And adjusting her skirt, she gathered up her bridle 
and turned her horse’s head toward the gate. “ After 
all, it’s a dear old house,” she continued. “ To be 
sure, we don’t know as much as we might, and it can- 
not be said that we are given over to society’s claims ; 
but then we’ll do, and we’re better off than most.” 

“ Humph !” Roger replied to this cheerful philoso- 
phy ; “ it depends upon what you call well off.” He 
was a sullen-looking boy, some persons said, although 
Barbara insisted that he had but a cloudy face. He 


A LIGHT IN THE SKY 


13 

was a lad with an imaginative, active mind, who 
longed for some outlet to his activity beyond the 
routine of a farm. 

The children’s education had been carried on in a 
desultory way; sometimes they went to the village 
school ; sometimes they had a governess ; sometimes 
they were supposed to study so many hours at home 
each day. Their grandfather lived for his music. The 
farm was conducted by an overseer who lived in a 
small house which Helen thought a most interesting 
place, and with Mrs. Haynes was wont to spend much 
of her time. Roger did not care for the farm. He 
loved excitement ; he longed for a bustling world ; for 
the stir of streets and the noise of traffic. He was two 
years younger than Barbara, and the girl found him 
her most difficult problem. To steer clear of Roger’s 
angles kept her busy. So now she did not reply, but 
turned in her saddle as they entered the road, and 
looked back at the low, rambling brown house, so quiet 
and peaceful in its setting of oak-trees. Upon the air 
came the sound of one of Mozart’s sonatas; there 
was a glimpse of a little child standing on the porch; 
then a turn in the road hid all from view, and Barbara 
gave Fancy the word and both horses broke into a 
canter. 

Nothing did Roger more good than a brisk gallop. 
It stirred his blood and made possibilities seem nearer 
to him, and after one of what Barbara called his lion 
moods she usually coaxed him to take a ride with her, 
when he would pour out his hopes and ambitions, and 
having rid himself of the burden, would be a lamb for 
some time after. 


14 


HER VERY BEST 


The three children had been left motherless when 
little Helen was scarce more than a baby. Of their 
father no one ever spoke to them. Strangers did not, 
because they suposed him to be dead ; friends because 
they knew the sorrow which had clouded the life of 
old Mr. Palmer, and had caused him to bury himself 
more completely in his music. When Helen was but 
a few weeks old Blake Palmer had suddenly disap- 
peared ; no one knew where or why he had gone, but 
he had vanished as completely as if the earth had swal- 
lowed him up, and nothing about him could be dis- 
covered. He had not been a bad man, except that he 
had been a weak one, and his gentle little wife had 
struggled along as best she could, trying to hope 
against hope, until her health failed and she went with 
her children to accept the home their grandfather had 
always offered them. 

Three children in the house at first rather disturbed 
the old gentleman, but he left them to themselves more 
and more, finding that they came to little harm, and 
the house was big enough for him always to find a 
refuge somewhere. 

As the eldest, Barbara felt the most responsibility, 
but it was hard for so young a girl to take much care 
upon her shoulders; consequently little Helen ran 
about as she felt inclined, and Roger studied or not, 
as the mood took him, while Barbara herself felt that 
it was more discreet not to attempt any interference 
with the housekeeping of Aunt Dibby, who had 
reigned supreme these fifteen years. 

Dey grows up jes’ lak weeds,” the old woman 
would say to the overseer’s wife. But, law. Mis' 


A LIGHT IN THE SKY 


15 

Haynes, what yuh espec? Dey ain’t no ma, an’ ole 
Mr. Palmer he so boun’ up in dat yer big hoss-fiddle o’ 
his’n yuh kaint git nothin’ outen him, ’ceptin’ scrapin’ 
de bow. He thinks a heap sight mo’ o’ dem ole mus- 
sified pieces o’ paper what he gre’t-gran’pappy done 
scribble out, dan he do o’ dese yer chillun’s book 
lamin’. Dey ain’t gwine be eddicated lak dey ought, 
an’ some day. Mis’ Haynes, I bleedged ter speak mah 
min’ ; yuh see.” 

Mrs. Haynes, all astir amid crocks of milk and 
churnings of butter, let the old woman talk on, with 
little heed to what she was saying. 

“ Dat what ailin’ little Mr. Roger ; he ain’t got no 
use fo’ farmin’. He jes’ lak he own daddy? He de 
ve’y spi’t o’ him. I min’ Mr. Blake dat same way. 
He al’ays a-yarnin’ fo’ change an’ pleasure, an’ he 
nuver had nobody jes’ hoi’ him down an’ mek him 
do. He jes’ run along lak he choose, fus’ dis way an’ 
then dat. He come back yit, when he git ti’ed. He 
min’ me fo’ all de worl’ o’ a ole cow jumpin’ de fence 
ter git into ernuther meader what ain’t no better dan 
de one she in. He come back yit; yuh see.” 

But Aunt Dibby made no such speeches to Barbara, 
for though the girl was so slight and quiet, there was 
a gentle dignity about her much like that possessed 
by her mother, whom she greatly resembled ; and she 
was loyal to the last degree to that lost father, who 
was somewhere a captive, helpless, or unconscious of 
his plight, she steadfastly believed. Aunt Dibby felt 
a certain respect for Barbara, young as the girl was, 
and, although the old woman scolded Roger and 
ordered Helen out of the kitchen, she always gave a 


i6 


HER VERY BEST 


submissive heed to Barbara, who so loved peace and 
harmony that she seemed to spend her days in smooth- 
ing away the rough places for others. 

She and Roger had been galloping along over a 
smooth piece of road when Barbara turned to her 
brother with her pleasant little smile, which was always 
given with a shy uplifting of the eyes in the manner 
of a child. ‘‘ Well, Roger, why has the lion raged of 
late ?” she asked. He shook his mane and growled 
most ferociously this week. What was he particularly 
seeking to devour this time?’’ 

Roger answered with a sudden lighting up of his 
face. When Roger did smile it was like the appear- 
ance of the sun from behind clouds. He was hungry 
only on general principles,”- he replied. He wanted 
to tear something to pieces, and didn’t care much what 
it was.” 

I thought so,” Barbara returned, nodding wisely 
and allowing her horse to drop into a walk, while 
Roger’s did the same. Are you ever going to be a 
real nice, every-day sort of a somebody, Boggie, dear ?” 
she asked, using the pet name which she had called 
her brother before she could talk plainly. 

“ I don’t want to be an every-day sort of a some- 
body, Bab. I want to be something diiferent.” 

^^What?” 

An Edison, or some one like that.” 

Barbara laughed. “ What a real modest sort of an 
ambition !” 

“ Oh, well, you see Edison began by being a train- 
boy, or some unimportant thing. I’ve read all about 
him, and I know if I only had a chance to get away 



“It looks like a tire,” he replied 




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A LIGHT IN THE SKY 


17 

rd learn telegraphy or something so I could get at 
machines.” 

“ Goodness, boy ! you have got at every machine 
on the place. Mr. Haynes says he can’t keep your 
hands off of them.” 

“ He’d better not try. They’re grandfather’s, not 
his. My, Bab, I wish grandpa would wake up and 
see something except his old ’cello.” 

“ Now, Boggie, that isn’t right. Dear old grandpa 
does take all the comfort in the world in his music. He 
has had so much trouble, and is so good not to fuss 
over what we do. I am sure we do exactly as we 
please.” 

No, I don’t do as I please. I please to live a dif- 
ferent life.” 

“ All right, Boggie ; wait till you are just a little 
older. You know it is the unexpected that always 
happens. Who knows what is travelling toward us 
this very minute.” 

Having gone to the post-office, and then having 
taken a roundabout way home, continuing their talk, 
the two were at last on the brow of a hill which gave 
them their first glimpse of the river. 

See that light in the sky,” exclaimed Barbara. 

What do you suppose it is, Roger?” 

“ It looks like a fire,” he replied, looking in the direc- 
tion which Barbara indicated. I think it is on the 
Virginia shore.” 

** It looks nearer to me,” said Barbara, unconsciously 
urging her horse forward. “ Oh, Roger, suppose it 
should be our house !” 

It is more likely a fire in the woods. We have had 
2 


i8 


HER VERY BEST 


a long drought, and everything is as dry as tinder/’ 
But he, too, hastened his horse’s speed. 

Redder and redder became the sky, and although 
each encouraged the other, fear was in the hearts of 
the two as the horses galloped along. 

“ It must be the barn !” Roger cried, as they came 
in sight of the farm. 

'' No, — oh, Roger, it is the house !” Barbara an- 
swered. 

Roger raised himself in his saddle the better to see, 
and with the laconic, “ You’re right,” he urged his 
horse to his best speed, and they went clattering up 
the road toward the column of smoke and shooting 
flame before them. 


CHAPTER II 
Roger's exploit 

By the time Roger and Barbara reached the gate 
they saw that the house was really in flames. Men 
were running about shouting and carrying buckets of 
water. Such of the neighbors as had been able to 
reach the place were on hand trying to save what they 
could. The old house itself was beyond the hope of 
rescue, for being a wooden structure, well seasoned, 
it was impossible to prevent it from going. 

Roger leaped from his horse and rushed toward the 
burning building. 

'' Roger, Roger called Barbara, but he, unheeding, 
sped on, and was almost immediately lost to sight in 
the cloud of smoke which was issuing from doors and 
windows. 

'' Don’t try to go in,” she heard someone cry ; it 
isn’t safe !” But there was only a shout in reply, and 
she could not tell whether or not her brother had 
obeyed the caution. 

Roger’s love for his mother had always been his 
strongest redeeming trait. As a baby his sober little 
face would light up when she came into the room, and 
he was always perfectly content when she was by. He 
could not and would not be reconciled to her loss, and 
Barbara, who understood him, knew that half the time 
his wild fits of rebellion were the expression of his 

19 


20 


HER VERY BEST 


grief as much as anything, and now it suddenly came 
upon her that perhaps he had wilfully sought to lose 
himself in the burning house ; and she pressed nearer, 
forgetting even Helen and her grandfather in her 
anxiety for her brother. 

Oh, tell me,’’ she cried to a neighbor who was 
standing near, '' did you see Roger go inside ?” 

Yes,” replied the man, '' I did. He ran around to- 
ward the side door and must have gone in that way. 
I am watching for him. It’s pretty risky business going 
in there now, but he wouldn’t listen, just rushed oflf 
like a wild creature. I suppose there was something 
he specially wanted to save.” 

It flashed over Barbara what it might be. The room 
her brother had entered was the library where hung 
most of the family portraits. It had an entrance open- 
ing upon a porch, the roof of which was already be- 
ginning to catch fire, but in the room above was hang- 
ing a portrait of the children’s mother, and this must 
be what Roger was trying to save. A large oak-tree 
reached out long branches which, tapped against the 
window of this upper room, and Barbara instantly 
discerned what was Roger’s purpose. 

Roger, Roger !” she called, loudly and shrilly, as, 
jumping from her horse she ran around to the rear of 
the house, and looked up into the branches of the big 
tree. “ Oh, hurry, hurry !” she cried. 

The neighbor to whom she had been speaking had 
followed her. Oh, Mr. Moss,” she cried, ** I think 
Roger is in that upper room; do you believe he can 
ever get out?” 

“ Sharp boy,” replied Mr. Moss ; he went up this 


ROGER’S EXPLOIT 


21 


tree, and will come down the same way if ” The 

sudden pause conveyed such a dreadful possibility to 
Barbara that she clasped her hands convulsively, and 
her next call missed its carrying quality. 

Roger, Roger,” she quavered, and in a moment she 
saw a figure staggering over the roof of the porch. 

Mr. Moss rushed forward. “ We’re here, Roger,” 
he cried, “ don’t try the tree, let yourself drop. I’ll 
catch you.” 

The boy, coming into the fresh air, gained new 
strength, and managed to reach the edge of the roof, 
one end of which was already blazing. Leaning over, 
Roger first let something fall which came sliding to 
the ground, and then he himself dropped into Mr. 
Moss’s outstretched arms. 

“ That was a pretty close shave, youngster ; what 
possessed you to go up there?” said his friend. Roger 
was by this time on his feet, his smoked, blackened 
face and hands, singed eyebrows and hair telling that 
he had really been in danger. He went toward the 
portrait of his mother which had been the object of his 
attainment. This,” he said, lifting it up from where 
it lay face down upon the ground. Mr. Moss said 
never a word, but he turned away abruptly, and, rub- 
bing his eyes, made some remark about “ this blinding 
smoke.” 

Barbara sprang forward and clasped Roger and the 
portrait in her arms. Oh, Boggie, Boggie,” she cried, 
“ how could you risk your life for it ?” 

“ I had to,” replied he ; let’s take it into some safe 
place, Bab.” 

“ Aren’t you hurt ?” asked Barbara, anxiously. 


22 


HER VERY BEST 


I am a little scorched/’ returned Roger, as the 
smarting of his face and hands gave him a realizing 
sense of what it meant to battle with flames. 

Turning him over into Mrs. Hayne’s motherly care 
to have his fingers swathed in oil and cotton, Barbara 
started forth to look up her grandfather and Helen. 

The house by this time was all afire, the intense heat 
driving all some distance from it. From the windows 
the ruddy flames leaped out, the leaves upon the old 
oak-tree were shrivelled in the fierce glow, the swal- 
lows which had for years nested in the chimneys were 
circling wildly overhead, with cries of terror; it was 
the hour of their homing, and the poor little creatures 
were distraught at finding their retreat destroyed. 

“ Where are grandfather and Helen ?” Barbara asked 
of the first one she met, who happened to be Mr. 
Haynes. 

‘‘ The old gentleman is about here somewhere, and 
the little girl, too,” was the reply. “ It’s clean gone. 
Miss Barbara, too bad ! too bad ! It was pretty old, 
but any house is better than none; we tried hard to 
save it, but it was no use.” 

Barbara soon came upon Helen clinging to Aunt 
Dibby. “ Oh, isn’t this dreadful?” cried the child. 

“ It is, indeed ; how did it happen ?” Barbara asked. 

“ It was all dat keerless no ’count yaller boy, Abe,” 
replied Aunt Dibby. He chuck de stove so full o’ 
trash it ro’ed up de chimbley and fust hit cotched, and 
befo’ anybody knowed it de roof done git a spark, and 
den hit go.” 

“ Is nothing saved ?” asked Barbara looking around 
in blank dismay. 


ROGER'S EXPLOIT 


23 


‘‘ Yo' grandpappy done save he big fiddle, an' some 
music an’ papers, an’ dey drug out a few things from 
de fust flo’, but mos’ all’s gone. Hit’s terr’ble, honey.” 
And the old woman shook her head mournfully. 

“ But no lives were lost, let us be thankful for that,” 
said Barbara, thinking of her brother. Come, Helen, 
help me to find grandfather.” 

The air was full of smoke and flying sparks; bits 
of charred timber lay over the lawn where the squirrels 
had been frisking gaily but a few hours before. Such 
pieces of furniture as could be saved were standing a 
little .distance off by the garden gate, and just here 
Barbara found her grandfather, his ’cello hugged under 
his arm, a roll of music in one hand and in the other 
a tin box painted green. These he had steadfastly held 
from the first moment when the fire had warned him 
to save what was most precious. He looked bewil- 
dered, as if only half comprehending the extent of the 
disaster. 

“ Oh, grandfather, isn’t this dreadful ?” said Bar- 
bara ; what are we going to do ?” 

The old man turned his mild eyes upon her. “ My 
great-grandfather built it,” he said. “ I don’t know 
what is to be done. I can’t live anywhere else,” he 
continued, piteously, as if this sudden wrenching of 
himself from his accustomed routine was something he 
could not accept. 

Helen looked up with a quivering lip. We’ll have 
to live somewhere, grandfather. We aren’t any of us 
dead.” 

“ No, no, child, that is true, we are all safe, I am 
very thankful, and I have saved this,” with a glance 


24 her very best 

at his ’cello, “ and the unpublished manuscript of Nich- 
olas Palmer.” 

Come, grandfather,” said Barbara, “ give me some 
of those things, and let us go to the other house. Mrs. 
Haynes will take us in, and Roger can go home with 
one of the neighbors,” and the girl’s quick wits settled 
the matter for the moment. 

The fire was beginning to die down, only fitful flashes 
rising from the cloud of smoke which hovered over 
where the house had been. 

Roger had been darting from one spot to another, 
filled with excitement and roused to the uttermost. 
Here was the unexpected indeed, and the boy could 
not, perhaps, be blamed for seeing ahead of the pres- 
ent. At Barbara’s suggestion he agreed to accept the 
hospitality offered by Mr. Moss, and as the night came 
on the family separated, Mr. Palmer and his two grand- 
daughters taking refuge in the overseer’s house, Roger 
going to the next farm, and Aunt Dibby occupying as 
usual her little cabin this side the garden. Every few 
moments during the evening Helen would burst into 
tears as the memory of some lost treasure came to 
her. 

“ Oh, Barby, we’ll never see mamma’s portrait 
again.” 

“ Oh, yes, we shall,” Barbara assured her. ‘‘ Didn’t 
you know that Roger had saved that?” And she gave 
an account of his exploit, while her grandfather listened 
silently, a troubled look upon his face. The portrait 
is hardly hurt at all ; fortunately, it was on the farther 
side of the wall,” explained Barbara, “ and you know 
it was not in so heavy a frame as those in the library. 


ROGER'S EXPLOIT 


25 

so when Roger let it fall, the frame was not smashed 
to pieces, and the dear portrait is quite safe, a little 
smoky, but that's all." 

I’m so glad," returned Helen. “ How brave Roger 
was! He was a real brave lion that time, and no 
growler either." 

“ I wish you could have seen Mr. Moss," said Bar- 
bara, proudly, when he invited Boggie to go home 
with him ; he took him by the shoulders and said, ^ I 
want the honor of your company at our house, Roger, 
my boy,’ and I know he never used to like Roger ; poor, 
dear Boggie!" 

Here Helen’s thoughts again went back to the losses. 

Oh, Barbara, all our story-books are burned up, and 
the stereoscope, and grandmother’s silver porringer." 

“ No, the silver ain’t none of it burnt," put in Mrs. 
Haynes, “ Dibby and I saved every smitch of it as soon 
as we saw the fire was bound to be." 

Oh, how good of you," returned Barbara, grate- 
fully ; but we’ve no clothes left, and so many of the 
dear old familiar things are gone." And the tears came 
to Barbara’s eyes, too. 

It seemed very queer for the two sisters to be sleep- 
ing in the little dormer-windowed room under the roof 
of the tenant house; to be awakened in the morning 
by the sound of fowls gathered around the door to be 
fed; to hear Mrs. Haynes’s sharp, high voice talking 
to Dibby; to look from the window upon a very dif- 
ferent view of the blue Potomac from that which usu- 
ally greeted them. 

The river rolled on as placidly as if no tragedies 
could ever disturb its quiet flow, and the blue hills 


26 


HER VERY BEST 


beyond showed peacefully against the morning sky 
when the mists were lifted. 

There came to Barbara the lines of a hymn which 
Mrs. Haynes had been singing shrilly a few moments 
before : 

“ We shall know as we are known, 

Nevermore to walk alone ; 

In the dawning of the morning, 

When the mists are cleared away.” 

There are a great many mists to be cleared away 
for us,” she said to the waking Helen. 

“ Are there ?” responded Helen, sleepily. Oh, yes, 
I forgot, this isn’t home. Oh, Barby, where are we 
going to live?” she asked, sitting up. 

I don’t know,” returned Barbara, gravely. It is 
all a very uncertain outlook.” 

Do you suppose grandfather will send us all away 
from here ? Perhaps he will have to. Oh, Barby, sup- 
pose he should send us each to a different school.” 
And Helen’s eyes filled. 

“ Oh, my dearie, I am sure he will not do that. 
Grandfather wouldn’t separate us; he may seem in- 
different, but he is never cruel, and it is because he is 
absent-minded and absorbed that he ever seems to neg- 
lect us. I don’t mean even that, but so long as we 
seem well and happy he doesn’t imagine there is any 
necessity for looking further. Poor, dear grandfather ! 
I have seen him stop in the walk to pick up a cater- 
pillar and set it out of the way for fear someone would 
step on it, so he must have a very tender heart, Helen.” 

The little girl sat thoughtfully turning this over in 



Barbara read the Forty-sixth Fsalm 






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ROGER^S EXPLOIT 


27 

her mind. Any settlement of the family affairs was 
quite beyond her, and she crept out of bed and sat 
down to put on her shoes and stockings feeling that 
a very strange and untrod way lay before her. 

“ It would be queer to live with Mrs. Haynes,” she 
said, presently, “ and there isn’t any other house on 
the place. I’m all in a tangle, Barby.” 

Don’t try to untangle it yet. Don’t you remember 
mother’s favorite psalm? Let’s get it and I’ll read it 
to you ; there is a Bible over on that table.” And with 
her little sister’s head on her shoulder, Barbara read 
the Forty-sixth Psalm. “ Now,” said she, as she closed 
the book, “ let’s leave the worrying till we find out what 
grandfather says ; he may have some good plan.” 

“ It seems funny for grandfather to have plans,” 
replied Helen. “ He isn’t like Mr. and Mrs. Haynes. 
Mrs. Haynes is always wanting to accomplish some- 
thing.” 

Barbara laughed. It was Mrs. Haynes’s favorite 
expression. 

But the girl’s confidence in her grandfather was not 
misplaced, for the grave, gentle old man who half the 
night had walked the floor of the room below them, gave 
them the answer to their problem that day. It may 
have been that he was influenced by the remark which 
someone once made to him, ''If you want to find any- 
one who is missing, go to the big cities first.” Did he 
think of his son, Blake Palmer, when he trod the floor 
restlessly that night after the fire? At any rate, he 
made his purpose known when Roger appeared the next 
morning. 

" I suppose you’ll build again right away, Mr. 


28 


HER VERY BEST 


Palmer/^ Mrs. Haynes said, with some curiosity. 
“ You’ll be right comfortable here for a while, and 
we can fix up the other attic for Mister Roger, so you 
needn’t feel you’re putting us out. You ain’t a bit. 
You’re as welcome as can be. Me and Mr. Haynes 
talked it over last night. You won’t be disturbed if 
you want to play your music, and you won’t disturb 
us.” 

Mr. Palmer raised a thin hand deprecatingly. 

Thank you, madam,” he said. I shall not re- 
build; what is gone is gone. Perhaps I have lived 
too long with memories. Perhaps I needed the dis- 
cipline of fire in more than one way,” he said, half to 
himself. “ We shall be glad to accept your hospitality 

for a few days, and then ” 

And then ?” echoed Helen, going up to him and 
putting her hand on his shoulder. “ Oh, grandfather, 
you are not going to send us away ? not from the ducks 
and the chickens, and my dear little fairy dell down 
by the spring, and from old Dolly, and — and — oh, 
grandfather!” And the child’s face was pitifully 
anxious. 

Barbara sat leaning forward, her eyes fixed upon 
Roger, who had just come in. 

“ Yes,” replied Mr. Palmer, giving a long sigh, 
“ from all those, my child, and from much more. I 
am going to let Mr. Haynes take care of the farm.. It 
is best so, for more than one reason. I can publish 
the sonata, and there will be great opportunities for 
all of us. We are going to the city, — to New York.” 


CHAPTER III 


FAREWELLS 

The children looked at each other in amazement 
when their grandfather made known his decision. Of 
the three, Roger was the most pleased; but even to 
Barbara the prospect was not without a certain pleasant 
excitement. Not once in the last five years had either 
brother or sisters been out of the county. The agri- 
cultural fair had given the nearest approach to a crowd 
that they had known. The family wardrobe had been 
supplied from the nearest village, and the little old 
dress-maker, whose meagre fashion-plates were much 
pored over, directed the fashioning of the gowns which 
Barbara and Helen wore. 

There was a dead pause after Mr. Palmer’s an- 
nouncement, till Barbara broke the silence by saying, 
“Well, we shall not have much packing to do, for 
we’ve only the clothes upon our backs. When do we 
go, grandfather? I shall have to get Miss Gates to 
make something. I haven’t even a frock, for I had on 
my riding-skirt when the fire broke out, and have had 
to borrow a skirt from Mrs. Haynes.” 

“ There is no need of delay,” replied her grandfather. 
“As soon as Miss Gates can make you comfortable 
we can go. You had best go to see her this morning 
and get what you absolutely need for the present. We 
can depend upon New York to supply us in the future.” 

29 


30 


HER VERY BEST 


There was something exhilarating in the thought. 
Barbara fancied how delightful it would be to go shop- 
ping in those fine shops of which she had only a dim 
idea. She remembered going with her mother once or 
twice, when quite little, to the city, and the recollection 
was a pleasant one, including the early start from the 
small village in which they had then lived, the trip on 
the cars, and the luncheon taken at some place where 
ice-cream was always an important article on the bill 
of fare. 

She looked over at Roger with a gleam of amuse- 
ment, as she considered how very unfamiliar city life 
was to them. Oh, Boggie,” she said, how green we 
shall ber 

Roger scowled, and then Helen came up and slipped 
a hand in her sister’s. “ Barby,” she whispered, can’t 
I take Ducky Daddies?” 

Barbara laughed. “ I don’t see why you should not,” 
she returned. Do you want to go to Miss Gates’s 
with me ? You will have to have a frock too ; you could 
never travel in that faded gingham.” And after break- 
fast the two started off, as they had done many times 
before, in the old buggy towards the village some three 
miles distant. 

It was, of course, to be expected that the news of 
the fire had reached the village before them, and that 
it was the chief theme of conversation in the post-office, 
the blacksmith-shop, and the country store; so, when 
Barbara and Helen drove through the one straggling 
street, their approach was the signal for heads to be 
poked from the windows, and hands to beckon from 
doors. But Barbara did not waste time in discussing 


FAREWELLS 


31 


the situation, and beyond a cheery ‘'good morning,” 
paid no heed. “ They will hear it all from Miss Gates,” 
she said. “ There is no use telling the story over and 
over. Everyone will be rushing to Miss Gates as soon 
as we leave. She’ll have a lot of callers to-day, you’ll 
see.” And Barbara laughed softly as she drew up 
before a little white frame house. 

It was early fall, and the garden before Miss Gates’s 
modest dwelling was gay with dahlias and China asters. 
The lady herself responded to Barbara’s knock. She 
was all eagerness in her manner of greeting her cus- 
tomer, the little gray curls on each side her face bob- 
bing in her flurry to get the girls inside her small 
sitting-room. 

A very old lady sat by the window; she gave a 
mild sort of cackle as she saw Barbara and Helen. 
“ Mother,” screamed Miss Gates to the old lady, who 
was evidently very deaf, “this is Barbary and Helen 
Palmer; you know they got burnt out yesterday.” 

“ Don’t say !” exclaimed the old lady with one hand 
to her ear. 

“ Speak up loud. Barbary,” said Miss Gates, 
“ mother is deafer’n usual this morning.” 

Barbara mischievously refrained from entering into 
any account of the fire, but began with the business 
which brought her. “We came to see if you could 
make Helen and me each a frock right away. Miss 
Gates ; this week, if possible.” 

“Why, let me see,” replied Miss Gates, caressing 
her chin with one hand. “ I reckon so ; Miss Armiger’s 
dress is most finished. Did you bring the goods along, 
Barbary ?” 


32 


HER VERY BEST 


No, we are going to the store next.” 
suppose you haven’t saved a stitch,” remarked 
Miss Gates, skilfully bringing the subject around to 
the desired point. 

Nothing, except what we have on ; in fact, this 
skirt belongs to Mrs. Haynes, and we shall need some- 
thing to travel in.” 

“ Travel !” and Miss Gates, in her surprise, dropped 
the scissors she held. “You don’t say! Oh, I sup- 
pose you’ll take a little trip while your grandfather is 
rebuilding; that will be real nice. We heard he meant 
to start the new house right away.” 

“ There isn’t to be any new house,” returned Bar- 
bara. “We’re going to New York to live.” Miss 
Gates’s curls bobbed more vigorously than ever, as 
she leaned over to her mother and shouted, “Do you 
hear, mother? They are going to New York to 
live.” 

“ Don’t say ?” responded Mrs. Gates in the same 
inquiring manner. 

“ Dear I dear 1 we’ll be sorry to lose you,” said Miss 
Gates ; “ not that we see much of you, but I was say- 
ing to mother the other day that you would be a 
young lady soon, and there’d be no telling what changes 
might come then; but they’ve come, sure enough.” 
Then she questioned closely about the fire, and Barbara, 
knowing there was no help for it, gave as exhaustive 
an account as she could, knowing with what gusto it 
would be retailed. After further talk about their 
frocks, the girls took their leave, promising to leave 
the goods on the return from the store. 

“ It will all have to be gone over again at Mr. Daw- 


FAREWELLS 


33 

son’s,” she said to Helen. “ It is rather tiresome to 
be such objects of interest.” 

The business at the store was soon despatched de- 
spite the questions with which the girls were plied. 
Mr. Dawson’s stock of goods was not large, and it 
did not take Barbara long to make her choice. She 
had naturally good taste, but it had been rather too 
strongly influenced by the dressiness of the girls of 
the neighborhood, who usually considered that showy 
attire betokened extreme elegance, and who wore won- 
derful structures for hats, and had cheap, flimsy ma- 
terials made up in the mode that would only have 
suited a rich fabric. Therefore when Barbara selected 
a blue serge, it is to be deplored that she had it “ bright- 
ened up” with quantities of little brass buttons and 
gay plaid trimmings, and that Helen’s frock, it was 
decided, should be made after a pattern suitable for 
a grown woman. 

Having concluded her purchases with some furnish- 
ings for Roger, Barbara turned her horse’s head to- 
wards the farm, stopping before Miss Gates’s gay 
little garden to leave her parcels. 

As she drove up the long street the nearness of the 
change became uncomfortably real to her. “ Oh, 
Helen,” she said, “ only a few more days, and then we 
shall take our last drive behind old Dolly through this 
town.” 

The tears, which seemed very near Helen’s eyes 
these days, began to gather. don’t want to go, 
sister ; but do you know what Mrs. Dawson said while 
you were talking to her husband ? She said, ' Perhaps 
you’ll come across your father in New York.’ Do 
3 


34 


HER VERY BEST 


you believe we shall, Barby ? Do you think he is really 
living?” 

Barbara was always loyal to this lost father. No,” 
she said, shaking her head sadly. ‘‘ I do not believe 
we shall find him in New York. I do not think he 
would have stayed away from us all this time if he had 
been alive.” 

“ Does grandfather think so? Is that why he wants 
to go?” 

Barbara hesitated. ‘‘ I think perhaps it is one rea- 
son. I do not believe he has ever given up the hope 
of seeing papa again. But never say anything about 
it, Helen. He does not like to have us mention the 
subject.” 

In a few days the little family turned their backs 
upon the heap of blackened ruins which had once been 
home, and started for New York. The children had 
hugged old Dolly, and wept upon her mane ; had em- 
braced each kitten and puppy, and would have been 
willing to bestow the same attentions upon each 
feathered fowl, but that they were cut short in their 
leavetakings by the appearance of Mr. Haynes with 
the carriage. 

Dibby, it is to be regretted, absolutely refused to go 
with them, to the dismay of Barbara. “ But, Dibby,” 
she had protested, ‘‘how am I to get along without 
you?” 

“You’ll git along; the city’s full o’ every sort and 
kin’ o’ domeskits, and you’ll git plenty ’thout an old 
’ooman lak me pickin’ up an’ gwine along. I ain’t 
use to no sich doin’s as I hyar’ ’bout in New York, an’ 
I ain’t gwine.” 


FAREWELLS 


35 


But at the last the old creature broke down, and 
if there had been time for her to reconsider her de- 
cision she would doubtless have agreed to go, so hard 
did the parting seem. 

Helen, with a large basket containing her favorite 
kitten, Toby, and a small box in which Ducky Daddies 
reposed, choked back the tears as she climbed into the 
carriage, and only smiled when Barbara whispered that 
it would never do to pickle Ducky in tears. Toby and 
Ducky, it must be confessed, served somewhat to en- 
liven the journey by the amusement they afforded the 
fellow-passengers, for the last interjected a solemn 
quee ! quee !” at different stages of the journey, while 
the kitten required to be taken out frequently and 
coddled. But Helen was not put out of countenance 
by Roger’s scowl nor the smiles about her, and she 
devoted herself to the remnant of a barn-yard colony 
with a devotion which amused even her grandfather. 

This stirring out of his accustomed environment 
seemed to rouse the old gentleman to a keener observ- 
ance of his grandchildren and he unfolded his plans 
with less reticence than usual. 

^‘We shall first go to a hotel, and then look for 
apartments,” he told them, and this suggested all sorts 
of possibilities. 

With what sensations did the children step from 
the ferry-boat, when the rattling of the chain an- 
nounced that New York was reached. Here was the 
great city full of mystery; full of life. They would 
presently be plunged into a busy world thrilling with 
incident and bewildering experiences. Such a crowd 
of people! From what place were they coming? 


HER VERY BEST 


36 

Where were they going? Why didn’t they get lost 
in such a confused hubbub? It seemed as if each one 
was bent upon pushing his neighbor out of the way. 
All was rush, bustle, confusion. 

Oh, grandfather,” gasped Barbara, as they stepped 
upon the street where a long procession of drays and 
wagons confronted them. “ Do we have to cross ? 
Oh, how can we?” 

“ Keep close to me,” her grandfather replied. “ We 
will manage as the others do.” And slipping Bar- 
bara’s hand in one arm, holding Helen’s fingers, and 
bidding Roger to follow, he started, the children feel- 
ing that they were taking their lives in their hands by 
flinging themselves into that jumble of ponderous 
vehicles and heavy-hoofed horses, not to mention the 
on-rushing crowd which threatened to walk up their 
backs, so it seemed to Barbara; and she breathed a 
sigh of relief when they were fairly over, and were 
on Cortlandt Street making their way to Broadway. 

It was rather a droll procession which walked into 
the big hotel; the tall, spare old gentleman, followed 
by a boy, whose heavy, clumsy shoes fell heavily on 
the tessellated pavement of the corridor ; next the two 
girls, Barbara wearing a hat, the feathers of which 
hung limply on account of a drizzle which had set in, 
and Helen carrying a basket from which issued plaint- 
ive mews, these being supplemented by protesting 
quacks from Ducky Daddies. It is not much wonder 
that the clerk at the desk smiled as he gave the keys 
to the hall boy who was to show them to their rooms. 
Helen, who had never in her life seen an elevator, gave 
a terrified little “ Oh !” as the small closet into which 


FAREWELLS 


37 

they were ushered, for what reason she did not know, 
suddenly began to ascend. Barbara and Roger had 
made up their minds that they would take everything 
as a matter of course, and shook their heads warningly, 
as they saw the amusement visible upon the face of 
the hall boy. 

“ Oh, how high up we are \” exclaimed Helen, look- 
ing from the fifth story window of the room into 
which she and Barbara were shown. “ And see, Bar- 
bara, there are buildings ever so much higher all 
around. Shall we have to live in any of those? I 
believe I should be afraid to. There is one, let me 
see, one, two, three — twelve stories high.” 

A long stay at the hotel was not within Mr. Palmer’s 
calculations, and he started out the next morning to 
look for apartments, after consulting the advertise- 
ments in the daily papers. Barbara begged to go with 
him, and, leaving Helen under the wing of a good- 
natured chambermaid, the others set forth. 

It was a long, wearisome task, bringing no success, 
but Barbara, whose bump of locality was largely de- 
veloped, became quite familiar with certain sections 
of the city, and the next day, seeing that her grand- 
father was entirely outdone by all these unusual exer- 
tions, she begged to be allowed to carry on the search 
alone. '' I shall not get lost,” she declared. “ I will 
only go where I am sure of my bearings, and if I should 
lose my way I will ask a policeman to tell me how to 
get back here.” So she was allowed her way, and 
started forth very much excited over the prospect of 
going even a few blocks alone in New York. 

Mr. Palmer had decided upon finding an unfurnished 


HER VERY BEST 


38 

flat, as being most nearly within his means, and Bar- 
bara had set her heart upon securing one in the vicinity 
of Washington Square, that green park appealing 
strongly to her fancy, and so she turned in that direc- 
tion, passing before an apartment house which bore 
upon a board set before the door, — 


STEAM HEATED 
JANITOR INSIDE. 


Barbara chuckled to herself as she noted the sign. 

I suppose the steam-heated janitor will tell me all 
I need to know,” and she rang the first bell that she 
saw. Presently the door opened mysteriously, but no 
one appeared. “ The wind must have blown it open,” 
thought Barbara, and she carefully shut it, then rang 
a second time that she might summon some one. Again 
the door opened as if some unseen hand held the knob. 
“ How funny !” thought Barbara ; “ every time I ring 
the door opens.” And then it dawned upon her that 
there was method in it; and later on she found how 
easy it was to pull a knob, or touch a button in the 
apartments above to open the front door. In a short 
time a head appeared from the basement. 

“What d’ye want?” was asked. 

“The janitor.” 

“ Then phwy don’t ye ring the janitor’s bell?” And 
looking at the other side of the door she saw a second 
bell which she rang, and a man with a very red face 
appeared. 

“ He looks as if he might be steam-heated,” reflected 


FAREWELLS 


39 

Barbara. At her request to look at flats the man led 
the way up-stairs to what seemed to the girl to be an 
extraordinary height, and she made her inquiries, but 
came to the conclusion that even this fifth floor would 
be beyond her grandfather’s limit. 

While she was still looking curiously at the conveni- 
ences and inconveniences the janitor was called below. 
“ Just close the dhure, if ye plaze, whin ye come down,” 
he said ; “ I’ve a call down-stairs.” And being sure 
that Barbara was a harmless individual, who would 
neither steal lead pipes nor set fire to the place, he left 
her, and she proceeded with her investigations. 

I’d like to see down into that yard,” thought the 
girl, when, having walked the length of the apartment, 
she came to the kitchen which looked upon an open 
court, and she raised the window. 

A swirl of wind rushing through the empty rooms 
slammed the entry door violently, as Barbara dis- 
covered by the noise. ‘‘ Let me see,” she soliloquized, 
“ seven, no, eight rooms all on one floor. How funny 
it will be to live right over other people’s heads ? How 
new it all is! But such tiny rooms. I don’t see how 
we could be comfortable, and fifty dollars a month is 
too much; we’ll have to do better than this.” And 
she turned to go. But rattle the knob as she would, 
pushing back the catch, using all her strength to pull, 
to push, she could not open the door. She was shut in. 


CHAPTER IV 


FOURTH FLOOR BACK 

For a moment Barbara felt inclined to cry and then 
to laugh. Then she set her wits to work to find a 
way of getting out. First she banged violently on the 
door, but this brought no response. The house had 
been very lately completed, the few flats occupied were 
on the first and second floors. 

Perhaps there is another way out,” she thought, 
after sitting down on a window-sill and waiting for 
some time in hopes that some one would appear ; but, 
although she tried every door, she could discover none 
that afforded a means of exit from the flat. There was, 
to be sure, one that opened into what appeared to be 
a bottomless closet where several pieces of rope seemed 
to hang. I wonder what this is ?” she thought to 
herself, and while she was peering down through the 
opening she heard a clattering sound, and her eyes 
getting accustomed to the dimness she saw something 
moving. 

Hallo!” she cried. 

Hallo !” came from below. “ Wait a minute. Til 
send her up.” 

Send who up ?” thought Barbara ; but following 
her query came the answer in the shape of a dumb- 
waiter or elevator, — a shelf within a box. “Well!” 
exclaimed Barbara ; “ it isn’t much like the elevator 
at the hotel. I wonder if they expect me to go down 
on this; it’s rather small.” 

40 


FOURTH FLOOR BACK 


41 

“Anything coming down?” called a voice from 
below. 

“Yes,” returned Barbara, squeezing herself in and 
sitting bent over on the shelf. “Now,” she called. 
And she felt herself descending, down, down, down, 
until with a thud she came to the first floor, to be met 
by the amazed countenance of a stalwart butcher boy, 
who jumped back as he caught sight of the girl 
crouched in the dumb-waiter. 

“ Why, why,” he stammered, “ where did you come 
from ?” 

“Help me out, please,” said Barbara, and the boy 
gave his assistance, the surprise on his face giving 
place to a grin, as Barbara explained her predicament. 

“ This ain’t no passenger elevator,” he said, “ but 
it’s all right for one this time. I’m waiting for some 
things to go back to the store; the girl on the second 
floor was to send them down and I thought you was 
them.” 

Barbara laughed. “ I’m very glad you did think so, 
and I am very much obliged to you, for I don’t know 
when I should have gotten out but for hearing you 
call up.” 

“ Door must have stuck,” returned the boy. “ They 
often does in these yer new flats. They rush ’em up 
cheap and the wood gets warped. I’m glad I was on 
hand.” And Barbara, with renewed thanks, proceeded 
to make her way through the hall toward the front 
door, according to the boy’s directions. She couldn’t 
help laughing quietly to herself as she went. 

“ What a joke on me,” she thought. “ Shall I tell 
them about it when I get back. I think I must, it is 


42 


HER VERY BEST 


too good to keep. I certainly didn’t expect to have 
an adventure so soon. Let me see, down one block, 
then around the corner. Now I’m all right,” and she 
returned to the hotel to find Helen only, waiting for 
her, Mr. Palmer and Roger having gone out on an- 
other search. Barbara related her experience, to 
Helen’s great amusement. 

“ I never should have thought of getting into such 
a little place,” she said. 

“ I don’t suppose I should if I had known just what 
it was. It was a case of ‘where ignorance is bliss.’ 
But it served my purpose, and here I am.” 

A further wearisome hunt proved unsuccessful in 
the finding of a suitable habitation, and Barbara be- 
came quite discouraged. “ Such a great, immense city 
and no place for us,” she said to her grandfather. “ I 
don’t see where we are to go.” 

Several days passed and the question still remained 
unsettled, but, as is often the case, upon the very day 
after Barbara’s greatest discouragements, a small flat 
was found within the bounds set. It was not so near 
the park as Barbara had hoped it would be, nor was 
it in one of the fine new buildings, all glitter and show, 
which towered up in the upper part of the city. It 
was the fourth floor of a building which had once been 
a private house and had been turned into apartments, 
there being only a few in the building, and these com- 
paratively roomy and of moderate price. The elevated 
trains rumbled rather too near them for absolute peace, 
so Barbara reflected, but she was told they would soon 
become accustomed to the noise, and there were really 
no very objectionable features in the immediate en- 


FOURTH FLOOR BACK 


43 


vironment. That night, therefore, Barbara went to 
sleep with a feeling of relief that this first difficulty 
was settled. 

But following this came experiences which the girl 
found strangely new, — the settling of the family in 
their new habitation. Even though necessity made 
their grandfather step from his world of dreams to 
the more practical matters of buying furnishings, and 
discussing with his granddaughter the merits of car- 
pets and dishes, there was still much which the girl’s 
shoulders, young as they were, had to bear alone. 
Many times both she and her grandfather were cheated 
in their trustfulness of tradesmen, but they were drawn 
more closely together, and Barbara began to under- 
stand something of what her grandfather must have 
been before sorrow changed him. 

The chambermaid at the hotel came to their aid in 
the matter of finding a maid, and one afternoon, with 
Toby and Ducky Daddies, they all left the hotel to 
take up quarters in their new home. 

Helen could hardly reconcile herself to establishing 
Ducky in the kitchen, and, indeed, she seemed rather 
out of place there, but when Barbara showed her sister 
that a yard of their own was something not to be ex- 
pected in connection with a modern flat, and that the 
clothes would have to be dried on the roof, Helen 
accepted the situation. Toby, however, was more 
easily managed, and, after poking his inquisitive little 
nose into every corner and closet, curled himself up 
on a chair and went to sleep. 

Roger bestirred himself in helping to get the rooms 
into comfortable condition, and before a week was over 


44 


HER VERY BEST 


they had all become used to hearing their grandfather 
scraping away on his ’cello in the front room, while 
the elevated trains thundered by, making a constant 
crescendo and diminuendo accompaniment to the sym- 
phony the old man played. 

The next problem was that of school for these three 
country-bred children. Roger, whose mathematics 
had always been his strong point, found no trouble in 
entering a class with boys of his own age at the public 
school near by, but poor little Helen shed bitter tears 
at being so far behind other girls of her age, and 
begged to be allowed to stay at home. But having 
awakened to a sense of his responsibility in this re- 
spect, Mr. Palmer was firm, and Helen was comforted 
by her sister, who dreaded more than either of the 
others an entrance into a class of strange companions, 
and who felt that she could not endure that first week 
of tedium and restraint, with at home no secluded 
corner where she could weep out her heartache alone. 
And, indeed, it is small wonder that the girl sometimes 
felt in despair, seeing that she was mother, house- 
keeper, and pupil, all at the same time. 

There were so many things to master even in the 
direction of marketing, that but for her friend the 
butcher’s boy, whom she opportunely came across, she 
would have floundered into many mistakes. The 
sturdy lad, however, having at the very outset helped 
Barbara out of her dilemma in the elevator, felt when 
he met her again that she must be the object of his 
special care, and gave her sly hints as to what was 
fresh and desirable, so that in this wise she began to 
fare better as time went on. 


FOURTH FLOOR BACK 


45 

But Ducky grew apace. “ I don’t know what to do 
with her,” said Helen one day. “ I wish we could 
send her somewhere in the country.” 

“ I’ll ask Ike if he knows any one who will take her,” 
said Barbara. 

Thus Ducky Daddies became the one member of the 
family who could not adapt herself to city surround- 
ings, and was so frequently discussed that even Mr. 
Palmer became quite interested in suggesting the best 
plan for a satisfactory disposal of this “ duck out of 
water.” 

But to keep up with her classes and attend to her 
other duties as well gave Barbara such divided interests 
that she could do nothing well. She possessed a quick 
mind, and had already acquired knowledge far beyond 
that of most girls of her age by reading books selected 
for her by her grandfather, but in certain directions 
she was deficient and found it a struggle to keep up 
with her classes. With her temperament and peculiar 
rearing, it is, therefore, doubtful if a public school 
was the best place for her. She found little time for 
sight-seeing, and the wonders of the city were only 
known to her through Roger’s accounts of them, he 
being indefatigable in his searches for novel sights. 

Once Barbara cautioned him against getting lost. 

No fear of that. I know how to use my tongue 
at the proper time, even if I’m not much of a talker. 
I’ve got lots of new ideas, one of them I mean to work 
out,” returned Roger, who looked brighter and hap- 
pier these days. Say, Barby, grandfather isn’t very 
rich, is he?” 

‘‘Rich? of course he isn’t. We shouldn’t be living 


HER VERY BEST 


46 

in a cheap flat and having only such furnishings as 
we can get along with if he were/’ 

“ I used to think we were as rich as anybody around 
where we lived in the country,” replied Roger. 

“ That was ‘ a horse of another color,’ as Mr. 
Haynes would say, or, to use another one of his say- 
ings, he was ‘ a big frog in a little puddle.’ Now we 
are in a very big puddle, and grandfather is only a 
small frog, while we are the tiniest kind of tadpoles. 
The tenements are the worst of all,” she went on. 
*^When I think of the wretched-looking people I see 
when I go to market, it makes me so unhappy. Speak- 
ing of shopping, I shall have to do some for you. Miss 
Helen, now that you are going to school. No more 
Miss Gates. We’ll have to buy everything ready made ; 
that will be the easiest way. The newspaper is full 
of advertisements of the most wonderful bargains, and 
the shop-windows, too, so no doubt we shall have no 
trouble in getting what we want. You can take the 
dress Miss Gates made, for school, and I’ll get some- 
thing else for best. I want to go to that beautiful 
church to-morrow, the one where we heard such lovely 
music.” 

Oh, yes, and where the sweet-looking lady asked 
us to sit in her pew. I liked her, Barby. I wish I 
could see her again.” 

You’ll go with us, Boggie?” said Barbara, in- 
quiringly. 

Oh, I don’t know ; why should I ?” 

“ Mamma would like it,” Barbara answered, softly. 
And Roger was on hand the next morning when church 
time came. 


FOURTH FLOOR BACK 


47 

A few days after, Helen rushed in with the news 
that she had discovered who was the sweet lady. 

Oh, Barby,” she cried, “ such a nice s’prise ; what 
do you think?” 

Barbara was trying to divide her attention equally 
between her lessons and the problem of the day’s mar- 
keting, and not being equal to it, was rather glad of 
the interruption. 

“ What do I think?” she repeated. “ I think I’d like 
most any kind of a surprise just now. What is it?” 

“ You know the lovely lady in church. Well, she 
lives right on the next floor, and her name is Mrs. 
Gardner. I read it on the letter box.” 

How do you know she is the same ?” 

I saw her in the hall, and she smiled and nodded ; 
and then while you were out this morning Toby got 
out and ran down-stairs. A door was open, and he 
ran in. I didn’t know what to do, so I followed him 
and knocked at the door, and the lovely lady came, and 
she said, ‘ Are you trying to find your kitten ? Come 
in and get him.’ And oh, Barby, it is such a lovely 
place, not a bit like ours ; it has lovely pictures on 
the walls, and queer, beautiful things everywhere. I 
think she must be a lady we hear singing, and she 
liked Toby, and said she wanted me to show her Mr. 
Ducky Daddies. She squeezes up her eyes in such a 
nice funny way when she laughs. I had to go to school, 
so I brought Toby back and ran. Aren’t you glad the 
lady lives here?” 

“Yes I am. I wish I knew her.” 

“You don’t get intimate with any of the girls at 
school, do you?” 


HER VERY BEST 


48 

“ N-o, but never mind. I see lots of funny things 
to amuse me. But — but I do wish I could go to an 
art school instead of this one.’' 

“ Oh, Barby, you can draw beautifully now. I wish 
you could see Mrs. Gardner’s pictures.” 

“ Well, maybe I shall. I must go now and see 
what Annie is doing ; grandfather will be here 
directly.” 

Helen sat thinking very hard for some time after 
her sister left her, and then a sudden resolution seized 
her, and she went to the room she shared with Bar- 
bara, and, after rummaging through several bureau 
drawers, she found a roll of papers which she slipped 
under her apron, then went down to call on her new 
friend in the flat below. 

The result of her call Mrs. Gardner made known to 
her husband that evening. “ There are some very in- 
teresting people in the flat above,” she said. “ The 
dearest, chubbiest little girl has been to see me. She 
was with her sister at church one Sunday, they sat in 
our pew.” 

“ The interesting looking girl with the beautiful 
paintable hair?” 

“ Yes, the very same.” 

“ She’d make a stunning study in color. I’d like to 
make a sketch of her.” 

“ Well, those two, with the queer-looking boy we 
have seen sometimes, live with their grandfather, and 
he is the one who plays the ’cello so well. That dear 
cunning tot brought sortie drawings her sister had 
done, and I want you to look at them. I think she 
shows ability.” And Mrs. Gardner displayed the poor 


FOURTH FLOOR BACK 


49 

little drawings which Helen had concealed under her 
apron. 

Mr. Gardner regarded them critically. “ They show 
truth,” he said, “and that’s a good deal. I’d like to 
talk to that girl. Go and see them, can’t you?” 

“ I mean to. Poor things, motherless and lonely in 
this big city. My heart goes out to them.” 

“Of course it does,” said Mr. Gardner. “ Surely 
that is a way your heart has — ^bless it.” 

And the very next day Mrs. Gardner found an op- 
portunity of paying her call, for Toby, having once 
found his way into the hall, made use of his knowl- 
edge to start on a second investigating tour, and Mrs. 
Gardner, discovering him, went to the door of the 
Palmer’s flat with the little runaway. She found the 
door ajar. No one responded to her gentle knock, 
and she entered the first room. Seeing no one she 
passed on to the next, and, looking through the open 
door which led into the kitchen, she saw, sitting in the 
middle of the floor, a girl crying most forlornly. 


4 


CHAPTER V 


BETTER PLANS 

The sight of Barbara's tears was too much for Mrs. 
Gardner’s tender heart, and she forgot all formality in 
her sympathy with the girl before her. 

‘'Why, you poor little child,” she cried, kneeling 
down beside her. “ What is the matter ? Come, don’t 
cry.” 

“ The fire is out, and I don’t know how to manage 
the range, nor how to get dinner, and Toby is lost, 
and I am so tired and cross.” 

“ Why, where is your maid ?” 

“ She has gone,” replied Barbara, wiping her eyes, 
“ and I am so glad.” 

“ You look delighted,” replied Mrs. Gardner, with a 
flash of humor. 

Barbara looked up with a little smile. 

“ Your kitty is quite safe. He came down to call on 
me, so I have brought him home.” 

“ Oh, that wretched girl ! she told me she had 
turned him into the street, and she said so many dread- 
ful, insulting things, and she has broken nearly all our 
dishes. I wish we could have brought Dibby, I am so 
dreadfully ignorant.” 

“I wish you could have brought somebody. It is 
too much to expect of a little girl like you, to manage 
the affairs of a family,” returned Mrs. Gardner, with 
some heat. “ Now, don’t worry, dear child. Just con- 
50 


BETTER PLANS 


51 

sider me the new cook. My husband, fortunately, 
dines with a friend this evening, and my maid has 
her afternoon out, so I can help you about your dinner 
if you will let me. No, no, never mind,” as Barbara 
began to protest. I know all about emergencies, I 
have struggled through dozens of them. We’ll call 
this a cooking-class if you like, or anything that sounds 
entertaining. Have you planned what to have for 
dinner ?” 

“ No ; I want something easy, I don’t care what. 
I’ll do the marketing if you will only tell me what 
to get.” 

“ Suppose you have some oysters, and — do you know 
that nice German store where they keep cooked meats ? 
You can get some cold boiled ham there; then we’ll 
kindle the fire and roast some potatoes, and have a 
salad and coffee ; then, if you will accept a pie, I shall 
be delighted to furnish one from my pantry. We baked 
some this morning.” 

Barbara was only too glad to meet any suggestion 
gratefully, and before a half-hour was over one could 
hardly have recognized the unhappy little maid in the 
brisk girl who replied to Mrs. Gardner’s merry sallies 
with answering wit, and when Helen came in from 
school she was overjoyed to find her lovely lady had 
taken her place as friend of the family. In her eyes 
she seemed lovelier than ever. 

The dinner was a great success. At the urgent re- 
quest of the two girls, Mrs. Gardner stayed to share 
it rather than to eat a solitary meal in her own apart- 
ment. 

^‘We want you to help us eat your pie,” Barbara 


HER VERY BEST 


52 

said. '' I think it is quite in apple-pie order that you 
should.” 

Mrs. Gardner laughed, and was secretly glad of an 
opportunity to meet Mr. Palmer, whose music had 
interested her. 

This gentleman was rather taken aback to find a new 
element controlling the household, but it had been a 
long time since he had met a charming woman who was 
not only an accomplished musician, but an able critic, 
and he gradually warmed and brightened under this 
genial influence till Barbara wondered why she had 
never known that her grandfather could be so agree- 
able. He even took from its case the old manuscript 
and displayed it to his visitor, as if he were showing 
a rare and precious treasure. That Mrs. Gardner 
handled it reverently, and looked at it carefully and 
critically, made its value rise in the eyes of the chil- 
dren, who were wont to look rather unappreciatively 
upon this heirloom. You must publish it, Mr. 
Palmer,” Mrs. Gardner said, as she handed it back 
to him. 

The old man's hands fairly trembled with pleasure 
and excitement as he replaced the manuscript in its 
case and thanked his guest for her interest. 

And Mrs. Gardner’s good work did not end here. 
Biding her time, one day with gentle tact, she drew Mr. 
Palmer’s attention to Barbara’s needs. The installing 
of a new maid did not prevent the little housekeeper 
from getting into many difficulties, so that with mend- 
ing and housekeeping, marketing and shopping, all 
demanding her attention, she found attending school 
punctually an impossibility. 


BETTER PLANS 


53 

The next maid proved dishonest, and another change 
of servants was inevitable, when Mrs. Gardner met the 
dilemma with a proposition to Mr. Palmer which 
gained universal favor. This, moreover, from the 
added fact that complaints from the occupants of one 
of the flats had been made of the ’cello practice which 
was pronounced a nuisance, to Mr. Palmer’s great 
distress. 

It was here that Mrs. Gardner came to the rescue. 

I have some dear old friends,” she said. They are 
Germans, and Herr Blumenbach is a teacher of violin. 
He is a man of fine mind, and his wife is a dear, 
motherly old lady. They have a grown son who is 
a civil engineer and absent from home most of the 
time. He is their only charge, unless you count his 
two dogs, which are more of a care than the son is. 
Well, on account of their two big dogs they have taken 
a little house with a garden attached. It is in what 
used to be old Greenwich Village, and they asked me 
to keep my eyes open for some one to share the house 
with them. I think they would board any one who 
might prove satisfactory. So it occurred to me in the 
middle of the night that you all might be very com- 
fortable there, and find congenial surroundings with- 
out the care of housekeeping. I know your objection 
to boarding, Mr. Palmer, and I quite share it, but I 
think this will be another thing entirely, for you will 
be welcomed as one of the fraternity when your ’cello 
is mentioned, and I am quite sure Herr Blumenbach 
will embrace you when he sees that manuscript. And 
this little girl will have more time for study.” And 


HER VERY BEST 


54 

the dear lady smiled down at Barbara, whose face 
showed her pleasure at the proposition. 

“ My husband and I have talked you over finely, 
Miss Barbara,” continued Mrs. Gardner, “and Mr. 
Gardner says he thinks an art school of the proper 
kind will afford you the best opportunity. He knows 
a man whose talks are a liberal education in them- 
selves. Mr. Adams is head instructor in a small art 
school, and I know you would like him. Can’t you 
come to my husband’s studio and talk it over with 
him? What do you think of all this planning, Mr. 
Palmer? Am I very meddlesome?” 

“ Meddlesome ! my dear madam. You are most kind 
to interest yourself about us. I can only say, thank 
you, most cordially,” replied Mr. Palmer. “ Your ac- 
count of your German friends awakens my happiest 
memories of youthful days when I was abroad, a stu- 
dent at Leipsic.” 

“And you have really studied in Germany? That 
would add another spoke to your wheel.” 

And before the week was out the arrangements were 
completed, and the family. Ducky Daddies and Toby 
included, had settled down in their new quarters, where 
even the dogs were so well behaved that they offered 
no objection to the newcomers, and, even if they did 
not quite approve of Toby, made no sign beyond sit- 
ting very stiffly erect, giving him sidelong glances 
when he frisked too near them, while Ducky Daddies 
splashed around in a big pan of water, or waddled 
comfortably about the yard in entire content. 

And now the days sped as if on wings it seemed to 
Barbara. She never forgot that first visit to Mr. Gard- 


BETTER PLANS 


55 

ner’s studio, nor his kind interest in her. A wonderful 
place she found the studio, with queer casts and 
draperies, odd bits of armor, dusky corners rich in 
color, and, best of all, the pictures about which Mr. 
Gardner talked so interestingly, giving Barbara a new 
sense of the seriousness of his profession, so that she 
did not wonder at his wife’s sweet faith, and her gentle 
remark, “ We are here to help each other.” 

And it was decided that Barbara should enter the 
art school. Exactly how the arrangements were made 
she did not know, but she was free to go, her grand- 
father told her, and good Herr Blumenbach, who by 
this time was a fast friend, called her ^‘eine kiinstler 
madchen,” as he pinched her cheek. “ She kom home 
mit vonderful peecture von day,” he said, encour- 
agingly. 

But before this, Mrs. Gardner took her to see the 
pictures and curious, interesting things at the Metro- 
politan Museum. It is doubtful if the place ever had 
a more appreciative visitor. 

“ Free on certain days in the week, and can I come 
here whenever I like? Oh, why isn’t it crowded all 
the time ? What makes people so stupid as not to come 
when they can?” And Barbara was actually wrathful 
over the unappreciative portion of the public. Real 
mummies, and real sarcophagi, strange objects so old 
that they suggested nothing later than the days of 
Moses! Mrs. Gardner could hardly drag the child 
away, and Barbara declared her resolve of coming 
once a week, till I am filled,” she said. 

And then the libraries, why hadn’t she been told of 
them? “Why, Mrs. Gardner,” she said, “here I have 


HER VERY BEST 


56 

been in New York all this time and didn’t know any- 
thing about it. How good of you to open my eyes! 
I believe I shall like it here after all.” 

One day she and Helen made a pilgrimage out to 
the park to see the animals. It was Roger who dis- 
covered that treat, and he came home wildly excited 
over the collection. My I this place is great,” he 
said. “ I’ve learned more here than I ever did in all my 
sixteen years.” 

Roger was very busy these days. At school he held 
his own. The boys, who at first hazed him, gradually 
let him alone when they found out that one after 
another met his match, and that Roger Palmer was not 
to be trifled with. 

He liked young Mr. Blumenbach, who upon his fly- 
ing visits home had won Roger’s confidence by show- 
ing an interest in electrical engineering and all sorts 
of mechanical work. To him, therefore, Roger shame- 
facedly showed the first rough idea of his last inven- 
tion. 

“Why, boy,” said Mr. Karl, “that is really prac- 
tical. How did you happen to think of it? You could 
do something with that. You ought to work it up and 
get a model made.” 

Roger’s eyes shone. A real inventor! Oh, if he 
could be, perhaps then his grandfather would bestow a 
little love upon him, take a little pride in him! For, 
although no one knew it, the boy hungered for a recog- 
nition from his grandfather. He longed to stir a re- 
sponsive chord, to awaken some of that affection which 
he knew had existed for his father ; and after this talk 
with Mr. Karl, a lion humor prevailed which was the 


BETTER PLANS 


57 

first of its kind exhibited since the removal of the 
family from the country. 

“Roger’s growls are very deep,” Helen whispered 
to her sister. “Why is he so savage, Barby?” 

Barbara shook her head. “ I don’t see any reason 
for it,” she said. “ Perhaps something has gone wrong 
at school.” 

Barbara had lately come to know that her brother 
was rarely in the house till nearly eleven o’clock at 
night, and she had begun to worry over the matter, 
but had refrained from speaking to any one about it, 
and now that his lion mood was upon him, did not 
dare to question him. 

“ Oh, if I only knew,” she said to herself. “ This 
great, big, wicked city, and every one around talking 
of its temptations. I don’t want to worry grandfather 
about it, and it would only make Boggie defiant if he 
thought grandfather disapproved.” And the little 
sister lay awake nights to listen for her brother’s step 
on the stair, turning over in her mind, meanwhile, dif- 
ferent means for finding out where Roger spent his 
evenings. Finally she decided that when Mr. Karl 
next came home she would consult him upon the sub- 
ject. 

She was lying in bed with these thoughts one night. 
The clock had struck eleven, twelve, and Roger had 
not come in. “ He is later than ever,” thought Bar- 
bara, but presently she heard him shut his door, and 
the bright light shining through the crack showed him 
to be up an hour later. 

Whether Mr. Palmer knew or noticed his grand- 
son’s proceedings Barbara did not know. Being, at 


HER VERY BEST 


58 

the best, much preoccupied, and just now in this new 
and congenial atmosphere, wrapped up more than ever 
in his music, it is probable, if he gave Roger a thought, 
that he supposed him to be in his room studying his 
lessons, for the boy had always kept much to himself. 

It was Frau Blumenbach who broached the subject 
to Barbara. Good, kindly, motherly woman that she 
was, she could not fail to be concerned in these young 
people. 

Brodder come in britty lade,^’ she said. He is 
radder yong to be owet so lade, ain’d it? Do grand- 
fadder know so?’' 

Barbara shook her head. Oh, mutterkin, I am so 
worried,” she replied, now relieved to know that some 
one beside herself was interested. I don’t think Roger 
is really doing anything wrong, but I don’t know what 
company he keeps, and he won’t talk, you know.” 

No, he is got sometings on de mind,” Mrs. Blumen- 
bach remarked, reflectively. “ He is sdrange poy, he is 
not lige my Karl.” 

“1^0, he isn’t like any one but himself,” returned 
Barbara. 

Do grandfadder spik mit him ?” 

^‘No, grandfather must not know; it would only 
worry him and make Roger do worse if he is doing 
wrong. I’ll try and find out myself, or get Herr Karl 
to, if he will.” 

“ You waid till Karl kome, he mage it all righdt,” 
assented Mrs. Blumenbach, cheerfully. 

However, it was not Herr Karl who solved the mys- 
tery for Barbara, but no one more nor less than Ike 
Keller, the butcher’s boy. 


CHAPTER VI 


WHAT ROGER WAS DOING 

In Roger’s good humors he jestingly called Ike 

Barbara’s henchman,” and laughed at his devotion to 
her interests. Since their removal from the flat Bar- 
bara had seldom seen the boy, and the poor fellow had 
really missed her gentle influence. A few chance words 
of hers had given him a resolve which he sturdily 
carried out, and which the girl little dreamed would 
make the turning-point in the lad’s life. Barbara had 
a natural courtesy of manner, and although she had not 
not had much to say to Ike, beyond discussing the 
quality of meat and vegetables, one day when he ex- 
cused his neglect in filling an order by saying that he 
could not write, Barbara gently told him he ought to 
be ashamed of himself. 

“ A great boy like you wasting your time,” she said. 

Why don’t you go to school at night and learn ? 
You might become a nice smart man that any one 
could respect if you’d take the trouble.” 

Ike looked shamefacedly down on the floor, and 
shifted his feet. “What do you do in the evening?” 
Barbara continued. 

“ Oh, I knock about with the boys,” Ike answered, 
uneasily, being ashamed to tell just what he did. 
“ Will you respect me if I go to school ?” he asked, as 
Barbara’s silence showed her disapproval. 

“ Much more than I do now,” she replied. 


59 


6o 


HER VERY BEST 


“ Then I’ll go,” Ike declared, catching up his basket. 
And that was the last time Barbara had seen Ike, for 
not long after came the removal to the Blumenbachs’. 

But one day when she had been to see Mrs. Gard- 
ner, Barbara met her henchman on the stairs. His 
rosy face beamed as he caught sight of the one friend 
who had taken the trouble to point him to higher 
standards. “ I go to the Cooper Institute, Miss Bar- 
bara,” he said, eagerly. “ I’m learnin’.” 

'' I’m very glad,” replied Barbara. That’s a nice 
thing to hear.” 

“ I see your brother going in there every night to 
one of the classes,” Ike continued. I thought maybe 
he’d see me and tell you.” 

No,” Barbara answered, he has never spoken of 
seeing you. Keep on, Ike. I am so pleased to hear 
that you are doing well, and I hope you’ll work hard.” 

I’m goin’ to,” said Ike, pleased at the encourage- 
ment. ‘‘ I ain’t always goin’ to be ignernt.” 

Barbara smiled and nodded good-by, but she thought 
little of Ike as she took her way home ; it was of Roger. 
Dear old Boggie, she thought, that’s what he has been 
doing. I’ll venture to say he is studying something 
to help him know machinery. And she made haste to 
assure Mrs. Blumenbach that Roger’s late hours were 
not due to bad influences, but to a real ambition. 

“ So-o ?” said mutterkin, a smile on her pleasant face. 
“ I like dot. I sink dot iss a fine poy.” And her ur- 
bane manner toward Roger that evening quite surprised 
the moody lad. 

He did not, however, reveal his intention to any one, 
and Barbara did not question him till after Mr. Karl 


WHAT ROGER WAS DOING 


6i 


had come and Roger had begun to expand under his 
genial influence. It was hard now to find her brother 
alone : either he was at school, or with Mr. Karl ; but 
one day, in the middle of the afternoon, when Barbara 
heard Roger go to his room, she thought she would 
go to him, and try to win back some of the confidence 
which of late he had withheld from her. Grandfather 
and Mr. Blumenbach are absorbed in some queer old 
music, and I’ll see what Roger is doing; he has been, 
as still as a mouse in his room for ever so long,” she 
said to herself. 

She knocked at his door, and then, fancying that she 
heard a reply, she went in. Roger started up quickly 
from the table where he was sitting, and flushed as 
he saw himself discovered. 

What are you doing, Roger ?” Barbara asked, curi- 
ously. Oh, what is that ? May I look ?” Roger 
stood aside, but neither invited nor denied her an ex- 
amination of a small machine on the table. “ Why, 
Boggie, what is it? Did you do it? Tell me about it. 
Oh, you. smart boy! How clever you are!” And 
Roger, unable to resist the sympathy, proceeded to 
explain his invention, and to tell of his studies at the 
Cooper Institute. 

“And, oh, Barbara,” he said, “if I only had the 
money I could have a model made, and maybe, maybe 
it would be a real invention. Mr. Karl says it is all 
right.” 

“ How fine ! How fine ! Why don’t you ask grand- 
pa? I believe he would help you if he knew how real 
it is.” 

“ Ask grandfather ? Never! I’d die first.” 


62 


HER VERY BEST 


“Why, Roger?’’ 

“ I would. I’ll never ask him. He will have to find 
out for himself. I know he thinks me a surly, ugly 
clodhopper. He is half ashamed of me. I know, I 
know it,” the boy said, passionately. “ If I were to 
go and get a lute with a blue ribbon, and were to stick 
a rose in my buttonhole, and play little old tunes, he’d 
think I was all right, but he thinks I am a boor, and 
— let him think so.” 

“ Why, Roger !” protestingly came again from Bar- 
bara. But she saw that there was a little truth in what 
Roger said, and that if he had been more like his win- 
ning, debonair father, he might have found greater 
favor in his grandfather’s eyes. 

“ Never mind, Boggie,” she said, after a pause, “your 
little red-headed sissy doesn’t think so. She’s proud 
of you. Do you know, Roger, maybe some way will 
come if we do our best to make it.” 

“What can we do?” 

“Work with all our might for what we want, and 
ask the good Lord to help us to get it. I’ll do my 
best.” 

“ I believe you,” said Roger. “ Thank you, Bab,” 
he said, a little awkwardly. “ I thought you’d kind of 
gone back on me lately.” 

“Did you? Oh, Boggie!” And there was self-re- 
proach in her tone, for she knew that she had been 
so self-absorbed as to have given less heed than usual 
to her brother. But the result of this talk did not show 
at once, although it did not fail in effect, as was seen 
later. 

The winter had fairly set in when the first snow 


WHAT ROGER WAS DOING 63 

arrived. It was quite deep for an early storm, and 
Helen came scampering home from school covered 
with snow-flakes. But the next morning when she 
ran to the window to look out, Barbara heard herself 
called : Sister, come here. There’s something so 

queer. The yard is full of snow, and there isn’t a bit 
in the streets. Where has it gone? It couldn’t have 
melted.” 

“ It is mysterious,” Barbara acknowledged. “ See, it 
is in the side street, but there is none on the avenue.” 

A clearing up of the mystery was made at the break- 
fast table, amid hearty laughter from Herr Blumen- 
bach. *‘You haf gom agross a meestery, eh? Veil, 
I show you dose meestery. It is oudt dere now veurk- 
ing. Come, I show you.” And he led Helen to the 
window to show her a force of men shovelling the 
snow rapidly into carts. Dat’s how dey reed demsel- 
lufs of snow in New Yurk,” he said. You haf leurn 
somet’ings already dis morning, eh?” 

^^Oh!” said Helen. 

The old man tossed back his curling gray locks and 
laughed merrily. She say, ‘ Oh !’ mudder,” he re- 
marked to his wife. Dat is all she say : ' Oh !’ ” And 
he laughed again, as if Helen’s exclamation showed 
wit by its brevity, if not by its brilliancy. 

It was an easy matter for Barbara to get to her 
classes, and she enjoyed her daily ride on the Elevated 
road, whose cars thundered so close to some of the 
windows along the route that the passengers could see 
into the apartment houses, and Barbara thanked her 
stars that she did not live in any of them. Her work 
was her delight and she was expanding in every direc- 


HER VERY BEST 


64 

tion under the influences about her. She had not as 
yet made any close friendships. Kind old Frau Blu- 
menbach and Mrs. Gardner were her confidants and 
advisors. It seems just as if I had a big sister and 
a grandmother,” she told them. But at the art school 
she was shy and opened her heart to no one, although 
she absorbed more than the girls gave her credit for 
doing. She worked diligently, and on the whole no 
better place could have been found for the special de- 
velopment which she needed. She soon showed what 
close application and persevering, painstaking work 
could achieve, for she was able to enter the Antique 
class by the end of the year, and held her own with 
those who had studied longer. 

It was not till Christmas time that Helen made up 
her mind that the city might hold delights which the 
country could not offer. 

Oh, sister, you should see the beautiful windows on 
Fourteenth Street,” she said, one afternoon. “They 
are fine. There are such wonderful things in them : 
a real ' Night before Christmas,’ with Santa Claus and 
the children ' snug in their beds.’ I wish you’d come 
and see it. Won’t you?” 

“Why yes, I should like to very much,” Barbara 
replied. 

“What are we going to do about Christmas, any- 
how ?” said Helen. “ Oh, Barby, I see so many lovely 
things that I want for you. Do you believe we shall 
have a good time? It is always so Christmassy in the 
country, with the crowfoot and the holly and the nice 
piney smell of the Christmas-trees. Don’t you remem- 
ber how we used to go out and get whole piles of green 


WHAT ROGER WAS DOING 65 

and dress up the house ? I think grandpa used to like 
to have us do it. What can we do this year?” 

I’m sure I don’t know,” Barbara answered, 
thoughtfully. “We shall have to think of some- 
thing real Christmas-like. Come, let’s go now and 
see the shops.” 

But on their way home Barbara was very thought- 
ful, and her little sister asked why. “ I was thinking 
of the poor little children who will have nothing,” said 
Barbara. “ Oh, Helen, there are so many of them, and 
we never used to see any at all in the country. Don’t 
you remember last Sunday what Mrs. Gardner said 
about giving?” 

“ But we have so little to spend,” returned Helen, 
looking sober. 

Barbara’s thoughts were busy, and presently she 
broke out with, “ Oh, Helen, I know what we can do, 
and it will cost hardly anything. I’ll make a whole 
lot of paper-dolls, and we will buy some penny dolls 
too, and a lot of penny toys; then we’ll beg a lot of 
little boxes at the stores where they throw them out, 
and those we will fill. If you have any money to spend 
on me, don’t do it, or else,” she said laughing, “get 
me a Christmas-present of all the penny dolls your 
money will buy, and we’ll dress them. It will be real 
fun.” 

Helen looked disappointed for a moment. “I was 
going to buy you something real pretty,” she said. “ I 
have fifty cents for Christmas, and I had planned it 
out just what I was going to do with it? Must I give 
it all, Barby?” 


5 


66 


HER VERY BEST 


“ No-o, I think half will be enough. We can do 
ever so much with twenty-five cents.” 

‘‘ But who will we give them to ?” 

“ I have a plan, and I think I can carry it out if some 
one will help me.” And therefore, during the inter- 
vening days between this time and Christmas, the two 
girls spent every moment they had to spare in filling 
their little boxes, which they had no difficulty in 
getting, and they were surprised to find how much 
of a show their small outlay could make, for, upon 
counting their boxes, they found a hundred. Their 
secret leaking out, numerous contributions came, so 
that they were kept busy enough in getting their small 
gifts ready. 

Half of the boxes were for boys, half for girls. 
Those for the boys contained a little bag of marbles, 
a lead-pencil, and a little picture-book made by stitch- 
ing a few leaves together and pasting in a few bright 
pictures. For the girls were provided boxes of like 
size, each containing a paper-doll, or one of the small 
penny ones, a little fancy box made bright by gilt paint 
and pictures, and holding a spool of cotton, a few 
needles, and a cheap thimble; then, for both boys and 
girls, came a bag or a cornucopia of candy, this being 
Herr Blumenbach’s contribution, and to it the good 
Frau added little cakes, so that on Christmas-eve the 
girls were as much excited over the distributing of 
these results of their labors as over their own Christ- 
mas-gifts. There was, however, one thing which 
rather daunted them when they considered their under- 
taking, and that was, how were they to carry this big 
lot of things which so far exceeded their original in- 
tention ? 


CHAPTER VII 


WHO CARRIED THE BOXES 

Helen need not have been doubtful as to the jollity 
of a Christmas spent in a German household, and she 
was in such a state of excitement over the tricks and 
jokes which Herr Blumenbach devised that she actu- 
ally declared that no Christmas in the country had ever 
been so pleasant. 

It was very funny to unwrap a large, long package 
and find in the very middle, carefully inclosed in cotton, 
a common slate-pencil; to see Barbara open envelope 
after envelope containing much-worn gloves, at last 
coming upon the one that held the new pair she much 
desired; to find deposited in a large box of excelsior 
a tiny package containing a Jordan almond; to see 
Roger look taken aback at finding in a satin-lined case 
a common hand-scrub brush, which suggested a use 
to which it might frequently be applied with good 
effect, for Roger’s hands were not always as clean as 
they might be ; to see roll out of an insignificant news- 
paper package the very pocket-book, with its pretty 
silver corners, that Helen had so much desired for her 
sister. 

And then the good things, and the Christmas-tree, 
which was a surprise to every one except the old 
couple; and the pie served for dinner, which when 
cut was found to contain gifts instead of blackbirds. 
Even Mr. Palmer was moved to make jocular re- 

67 


68 


HER VERY BEST 


marks, and went around with a pleased look on his 
face. And when Mr. Karl unexpectedly appeared, 
laden with gifts for every one, just at the time when 
they had all given up looking for him, it made the 
crowning jolity of the day. 

''And now, sister,” said Helen, when, dinner over, 
they made ready to carry out their plan of distributing 
the little boxes, " how are we to manage ? Where are 
we going? and — what?” 

Barbara gave a little gleeful laugh. " I haven’t told 
you, on purpose, because I wanted to surprise you,” 
she said. "You know every one has supposed these 
were for the mission school, but they are not. I wanted 
to have the experience of our giving them ourselves, 
and I knew there were lots of children who never go 
to mission schools, and those are the ones I want to 
find. Well, I puzzled and puzzled over it, and — who 
do you think settled it all for me?” 

" I don’t know,— Herr Karl?” 

Barbara shook her head. 

" Roger, then ?” 

" No. Ike Keller.” 

Helen slapped her hands in amusement. " How 
funny ! Tell me.” 

" Well, you know I asked him about getting the nuts 
for us — and do you know, Helen, I believe he paid 
for half of them? for there were twice as many as 
I ordered. You know we didn’t have money enough 
left to get many. Well, while I was bargaining about 
the nuts it popped into my head that Ike would be 
just the boy to help us. He knows New York just 
like a book, and can tell us just where the poorest 


WHO CARRIED THE BOXES 


69 

people live, and how to get our boxes to them and all. 
And do you know, he offered to carry them himself, 
and he is coming around with his big basket to put 
them in, and will go with us. Isn^t it real good of 
him T' 

“Real good,"’ assented Helen. 

“ He tried to discourage us from going to the very 
poor streets, at first, but after a while he gave in, for 
he saw just what I wanted to do.’’ 

So, Helen, with Barbara and her henchman, set out 
to the satisfaction of all three. Ike, with a basket on 
each arm, — “ the girl basket and the boy basket,” Helen 
called them. Into the narrow courts, the stived-up 
streets, they went; crowded miserable tenements con- 
fronted them on every side ; starved, wretched children 
stared at them curiously; harsh voices grated upon 
their ears. 

“ Have you had a Christmas-gift ?” was Barbara’s 
question put to a little crippled child who sat upon the 
curbstone watching a crowd of other children playing 
in the gutter. 

“ Wot’s Christmas ?” he asked. 

“Did you never hear of Christmas?” exclaimed 
Helen, in surprise, but Barbara handed out one of her 
boxes and said, gently, “ Here is a Christmas-gift for 
you.” 

Right and left the little ones crowded around. Most 
of them, eager for the goodies, did not appreciate the 
boxes and cornucopias which held the sweet things, 
but tore them ruthlessly asunder with grimy fingers 
clutching for the dainties. One even looked with an 
utter lack of recognition upon a pretty paper-doll, and 


HER VERY BEST 


70 

tore it to bits in a way which hurt Helen’s sense of 
what was proper. “ You mustn’t do that,” she said, 
quickly. And the child dropped the pieces and fled 
with a suspicious look over her shoulder. But there 
were some whose beaming faces showed their delight 
in the small receptacles, and who did not even offer 
to untie the ribbons which held the covers in place; 
gazing admiringly at the fancy little affairs, they smiled 
up in rapture at these givers of surprises. 

Coarse, red-faced women gathered around seriously, 
and finding that something was being given away, each 
ran down her neighbor and begged to be noticed. 
‘‘ Come in to my people,” said one, “ that woman’s 
children have scarlet fever.” 

No, don’t you go,” whispered another. “ She isn’t 
fit for folks to visit.” And Barbara turned to her stout 
henchman in bewilderment. But Ike displayed much 
judgment, and distributed the boxes where he seemed 
to know they would be best appreciated. 

At last the final gift was bestowed, and the two girls 
were glad to escape from the foul street. “ I am 
afraid,” said Barbara, “that I should never have had 
the courage to come alone, if I had known how bad 
it was. And I should have been completely at sea 
without you, Ike. I am so much obliged to you.” 

Ike’s face showed his intense satisfaction. “ I 
wouldn’t have missed it for nothin’,” he made reply. 
“I’ll take the job every year. Miss Barbara, if you 
want me. It does a fellow good to git into such places 
oncet in a while, when he’s goin’ in for the right kind 
of business. I ain’t never done nothin’ of this kind 


WHO CARRIED THE BOXES 


71 

before, but Fm blest if I don’t kinder like it. How 
much d’ye say that there layout cost ye?” 

“ Oh, scarcely anything. We made most everything. 
Then Mrs. Blumenbach gave the cakes, Mr. Blumen- 
bach the candies, and some one else half the nuts,” she 
added shyly. 

Ike’s round face was suffused with a fuller crimson 
as he saw she had fathomed his secret. “ Caught on 
to my little game, didn’t ye?” he said. “ Well, it wa’n’t 
anything; I’ll do better next year.” And, leaving his 
charges at the corner, he disappeared with his empty 
baskets, a boy in whom one little country girl had 
aroused great possibilities by her quick sympathies and 
the ingenuous, free expression of them. 

Such a fine Christmas ! Oh, sister. I’m the thank- 
fulest creature you ever saw,” said Helen, as Barbara 
tucked her in bed that night. 

And in a narrow court one hundred little hearts 
also had an indistinct perception of gratitude at the 
recollection of the gifts which had so unexpectedly 
come to them, although the Christmas meaning hidden 
in them was invisible. But the word lingered, and 
some day who can tell what fruit might ripen from 
the seed? 

The rest of the winter passed rapidly, and the spring 
brought to Barbara a possibility of which she had 
never dreamed as coming through her studies at the 
art school. And not even to Roger did she say one 
word of the faint little hope which was born in the 
blossom time of spring. 

There was a great scraping of chairs and stools, with 
the occasional clatter of a drawing-board falling 


HER VERY BEST 


72 

clumsily upon the bare floor from the collapse of an 
easel. 

It was the beginning of the hour set aside for the 
afternoon antique class, and an announcement just 
made had set the twenty-five girl students in a quiver 
of excitement. 

They were all on pretty good terms with one another, 
and while some were merely triflers, the majority were 
really interested in their work and had great visions 
of the wonderful pictures to be painted by and by, when 
the difficulties of proportion and values, technique and 
perspective were overcome. 

‘'Oh, dear! Oh, dear! I feel so helpless,’’ said 
pretty Madge Delorme. “ Imagine what that blank 
piece of paper ought to represent, girls. One hundred 
dollars ! Think of it ! for that is what the prize-draw- 
ing will win. I feel weak in the knees already.” And 
Madge turned her shapely little head to one side in 
a picturesque pose for the benefit of the rest of the 
class. 

“ I haven’t a thumb-tack left ! Do, somebody, lend 
me some !” cried Isabel Bromley. “ I never knew any- 
thing so utterly unreliable as thumb-tacks; mine dis- 
appear in the most mysterious way. I believe if I 
bought them by the gross I should still be without 
when I needed them.” 

“ Thumb-tacks are common property, you know,” 
returned Barbara. “ Here, Miss Bromley ; I have four 
extra ones. Will that be enough ?” 

“ Oh, you good child !” replied Isabel. “ To-morrow 
I shall lay in a big supply ; this is too serious an occa- 
sion to run the risk of having your nerves shattered 


WHO CARRIED THE BOXES 


73 

for want of appliances. Hurry up, girls, and choose 
your places.” 

For the next thirty minutes there was solemn atten- 
tion visible upon the faces of the group of girls. This 
was the yearly competition, and meant a great deal to 
at least two of the class. This year a prize of one 
hundred dollars had been offered for the best drawing 
made by a member of the antique class, and twenty 
hearts beat high with hope, although most of the girls 
acknowledged that there were formidable rivals in 
tall, handsome Isabel Bromley and little Barbara 
Palmer. These two girls had worked like beavers the 
whole year. Isabel had a nice, artistic touch, but, it 
must be confessed, was not always so strong in her 
drawing as Barbara. To the former the prize meant 
the consent of her parents to continue her studies at 
the Academy; to the latter it meant the money for 
Roger’s model. 

“You are the most incomprehensible girl,” Mrs. 
Bromley had said to her daughter. “You don’t need 
a profession, and how you can like to spend your time 
with that dirty, black charcoal soiling your hands, or 
with paints and turpentine forever in your nostrils, I 
cannot see. You can have invitations to any house you 
choose, and yet since you have left school you are as 
much of a stay-at-home as you were before. I did 
hope to see you shine in society.” 

Isabel gave a long sigh. “ Oh, I love to work ! I 
love it, mamma,” she said. “You don’t know how 
much more it is to me than anything else.” 

“Well,” returned Mrs. Bromley, “your father 
thinks you are wasting your time. He thinks to give 


74 


HER VERY BEST 


every day for two years is quite enough to allow you. 
I don’t see that you have anything to show for it but 
a lot of stupid-looking charcoal figures and a few 
ugly earthen pots and bottles, so very uninteresting 
in color. Now, if you could paint our portraits, it 
would be worth while. Your father thinks you ought 
to have been ready long ago for that if you had any 
talent.” 

Isabel clasped her hands tightly. “ Oh, if I could 
only make you see !” she exclaimed hopelessly. I 
will promise to do my very best, mamma; and if I 
can convince papa that it is my career, you will not 
oppose, will you, mamma?” 

“ Come here. Miss Palmer, and look at my drawing,” 
said Isabel. “ You know we may criticise each other, 
even if Mr. Adams doesn’t come near us.” 

Barbara responded by going over and silently re- 
garding Isabel’s work. It was good, very good, — 
strong, vigorous massing and well-studied propor- 
tion ; but Barbara’s critical eye saw that the figure did 
not stand squarely. She could praise sincerely, and yet 
to give the criticism which would be helpful meant, 
perhaps, the loss of the prize to herself. But she did 
not hesitate long. 

“ Take a line down the figure,” Miss Bromley,” she 
said, “ and see if it does not fall outside the heel.” 

Of course it does,” returned Isabel, after follow- 
ing the suggestion. “ Thank you so much. You have 
saved me, I do believe,” and she flashed a smile at the 
other, who returned to her easel. 

At the end of the three hours which closed the day’s 
work Barbara took another look at Isabel’s work. “ If 


WHO CARRIED THE BOXES 


75 

you keep on you will make the best thing you have 
ever done,” she said, slowly. 

Isabel looked up rapturously. '‘Oh, if I do! if I 
do ! — it means so much I I am trying as I never tried 
before.” 

Then Barbara went to her own easel, standing before 
it in silent contemplation. Her drawing was correct 
in line, squarely and firmly done, but it missed the 
breadth and freedom of Isabel’s, and the girl’s heart 
sank as she took down her board and set it against the 
wall. 

"We are to leave everything, girls,” informed Isabel. 
" This room is not to be entered by any of us except 
during the hours of the concours, Mr. Adams says. So 
lock the door after you, whoever is the last one, and 
take the key to Mr. Adams.” 

The next afternoon Isabel produced four large 
thumb-tacks, painted a brilliant red. These she pro- 
ceeded to place securely in the corners of her paper. 
" There I” she exclaimed ; " I’d like to see any one 
cribbage my thumb-tacks now without my finding it 
out. One of those you lent me yesterday. Miss Palmer, 
has disappeared, so I’ll have to replace it with one of 
a different size. I shall not lose these easily, however. 
They are painted with my very brightest vermilion.” 

"Happy thought, Isabel,” said Madge Delorme, 
stepping back from her easel and surveying Isabel’s 
staring red tacks. " My 1 what a stunning drawing 
you are making! there is no chance for poor me; in 
fact, I shouldn’t wonder but that you had distanced 
us all.” 

" That’s for the committee to say,” returned Isabel. 


HER VERY BEST 


76 

‘^You know it is proverbial that committees and stu- 
dents do not agree as to the merits of school work/^ 

“ There is some consolation in that/’ agreed Madge. 
“ I may develop some hitherto unknown quality of 
work which will strike the critical eyes of the wise 
six, or ril chirk up and go at it again.” 


CHAPTER VIII 


SUSPICIONS 

Another afternoon of hard, persistent endeavor 
passed away, and the girls, with cheerful chatter, va- 
cated the room. Don^t forget to lock the door. Miss 
Palmer,’' called Madge, for the former had dropped 
her box of charcoal near the door, and was stopping 
to pick it up. 

Isabel had gone on, and was washing her hands in 
the lavatory when Barbara came in. 

I beat you this time,” said Isabel, gayly ; you’re 
always ahead of me.” 

I had to gather up my charcoal,” replied Barbara, 
laying the key of the locked room upon the marble 
slab. 

Don’t forget the key,” called Isabel, as Barbara 
turned away to get her wraps. “ You are ^ discom- 
bobolated’ these days, aren’t you ?” 

No wonder,” returned Barbara, possessing herself 
of the key ; I think prize contests the most dreadful 
upsetting things in the world. I can neither eat nor 
sleep.” 

Does it mean so much ?” asked Isabel. Barbara 
flushed, and Isabel went on : It means everything to 
me. My parents cannot see why. They say I am 
getting cranky and queer, and they long to see me a 
society doll. They say I ought to maintain my posi- 
tion; that I neglect my duties. Such duties! Going 

77 


HER VERY BEST 


78 

to dress-makers and doing vapid, senseless things. 
They do not know to what my study helps me. Why, 
Mr. Adams’s talks have expanded my views beyond 
anything I ever dreamed. They are enough in them- 
selves to ennoble us, and make us see the beauty of 
honor, and truth, and integrity. Besides, what an in- 
sight we gain into the world of nature! Oh, I could 
not bear to give it up.” 

“ I’m so glad you feel so, too,” replied Barbara, re- 
garding the older girl admiringly. “ Isn’t it a won- 
derful world to live in?” 

“ Well, we stand an even chance as far as the prize 
is concerned,” said Isabel. “ Good-by ; I’ll try not to 
envy you too much if you happen to be the lucky one 
and, picking up her hat, she left the room. 

There was quite a hubbub in the class-room when 
Barbara entered the next afternoon. The girls were 
gathered around Isabel, ah-ing and oh-ing in tones of 
dismay and sympathy. 

Isn’t this dreadful I” exclaimed Madge Delorme, 
and Barbara, looking over her shoulder, saw the cause 
of the disturbance. Isabel’s drawing, partly erased, 
showed a cut as of a pin or a tack down through the 
middle. 

'' Oh I” exclaimed Barbara, “ what a pity ! and it was 
so good.” 

Isabel stood, a lump in her throat and a suspicion 
of tears in her dark eyes. 

“ You’ll have to do it all over,” said Madge ; '' and 
you had such a fine start.” 

Perhaps we can still do something with it,” said 
Barbara. 


SUSPICIONS 


79 

“ What ! How can anything be done with it ?” asked 
Isabel, helplessly. 

Barbara was examining it carefully. I think, per- 
haps, if we take off the paper without rubbing it any 
more than we can help, and paste a strip down the 
back where the cut comes, it might remedy it. You 
see, the cut hardly touches the figure, and even if it 
wrinkles on the side, it will not take away from the 
merit of the drawing.'’’ 

I am afraid it is hopeless,” returned Isabel. 

'‘Well, it will do no harm to try,” Barbara replied, 
cheerfully. 

" Go to work, girls ; don’t waste your time on me,” 
said Isabel to the others, and they dispersed. 

" I cannot imagine how it happened,” Isabel went 
on. " I left it standing safely against the wall, and this 

afternoon I found that it had been disturbed, for ” 

Here she stopped short in her chatter, her eyes snapped 
angrily, and she caught the board from Barbara’s hand. 
“ I am keeping you from your work,” she said, with a 
haughty change of manner. " I shall not attempt to 
mend this ; I prefer to make a new drawing. I don’t 
need your assistance.” 

Barbara was kneeling down in front of the easel 
carefully trying to brush away some of the superfluous 
marks which had gathered upon the drawing. She 
looked up wonderingly, but Isabel did not vouchsafe 
a glance in her direction, only walked away to get a 
fresh sheet of paper, and Barbara, turning very pale, 
took her own place. The other girls, working away 
steadily, did not notice this by-play, and their gay 
bantering and exclamatory talk went on as usual. 


8o 


HER VERY BEST 


Immediately upon the close of the last hour Isabel 
hastily gathered up her belongings and left the room, 
her mutilated drawing in her hand. She went directly 
to the head instructor. '' I want to show you some- 
thing, Mr. Adams,’’ she said. He looked up from his 
desk with a smile for this one of his favorite pupils, 
saying, ‘‘ Well, Miss Bromley ; something for me to 
criticise ?” 

“ No, Mr. Adams. I want to show you what has 
happened in the antique room. You know the room 
is locked each day when we leave it. No one is sup- 
posed to go in there excepting ourselves, who are work- 
ing in that class, and to-day I found my drawing in 
this state,” and she extended it to him. Mr. Adams 
took the proffered paper and examined it carefully 
before he made any remark. Then he shook his head. 
“ Too bad ! too bad !” he said ; “ and you had a good 
beginning. I cannot account for the accident.” 

I can,” returned Isabel, with a set face. 

Mr. Adams looked up quickly. ‘‘ Why, my child, 
what do you mean?” 

Isabel was silent a moment. I do not believe in 
suspecting without proof,” she returned, ‘'and I am 
sorry to tell this — so very sorry. Still, I do not believe 
in shielding wrong-doers. Do you remember who 
locked the room yesterday?” 

Mr. Adams was thoughtful for a short time. “ Miss 
Palmer brought me the key,” he acknowledged, with 
marked unwillingness. 

“ She was the last one in the room. We generally 
leave in a body, but she stopped to pick up her box of 


SUSPICIONS 8i 

charcoal, which she dropped — no doubt with a pur- 
pose.” 

“ Take care,” interrupted Mr. Adams. 

Oh, don’t imagine I make my charges without 
proof,” cried Isabel, warmly, with a new sense of her 
injury. I should never have dreamed of such a 
thing. I should have defended Miss Palmer to the 
last; but there were four thumb-tacks which fastened 
my drawing to the board. These I had painted bright 
red, to prevent their being taken or lost — you know, 
no one must appropriate a thumb-tack found on the 
floor. I left mine securely fastened in my drawing, 
and to-day one was missing. Then, when Miss Palmer 
was kneeling in front of my easel, I saw my red thumb- 
tack embedded in the heel of her shoe. It must have 
been there from the day before, for it was rubbed as 
if some of the paint had worn off in walking.” 

Mr. Adams looked distressed. “ This is very seri- 
ous,” he admitted. “ We will make further investiga- 
tions, Miss Bromley. Poor little girl ! Poor little girl ! 
there must be some mistake.” 

I wish I could think so,” returned Isabel. “ Could 
you not simply withdraw her work, yourself?” 

“ No ; for I am not on the committee. The draw- 
ings go in without my having seen them. I wish this 
sad affair had not happened. I am greatly inter- 
ested in Miss Palmer. I fancy no one among you 
is more thoroughly in earnest, and she has marked 
talent.” 

“Well,” concluded Isabel, rising, “we will let it 
rest for the present, Mr. Adams, but I thought you 
ought to know it. I scorn hypocrisy.” And she left 


82 


HER VERY BEST 


the instructor with a dignified step and with her head 
in the air. 

In the hall Isabel passed Barbara, but, save for a 
loftier fling of the head and a lowering of the lids over 
her eyes, it was as if she had not seen her fellow-stu- 
dent. 

True to her determination, Isabel worked as she 
had never worked before, and felt that her second at- 
tempt was, if anything, better than her first. On the 
last afternoon of the ‘‘concours” she found a red 
thumb-tack fastened on her board in a conspicuous 
place. She glanced quickly at Barbara, who had in 
these few days made no attempt to win her attention, 
but the little student was working away and never once 
looked toward her. 

“ I don’t care how faithful she is, it does not excuse 
her dishonor,” thought Isabel. 

But the thought had hardly crossed her mind be- 
fore one of the girls in a distant corner cried out, '' Oh, 
who has lost a red thumb-tack? I have just found one 
over here.” 

“Not I,” responded Isabel, “I have all four of 
mine.” 

“ No, you haven’t,” said Madge Delorme, turning 
toward her laughingly. 

Isabel turned quickly. “What do you mean?” she 
said, dropping her charcoal and going over to the 
girl. “ Why, Madge, I didn’t know you had red 
thumb-tacks too; it is yours, then.” 

“ No, it is not,” responded Madge ; “ although you 
haven’t a copyright on red thumb-tacks. I painted 
mine the very day you did. I thought it was a good 


SUSPICIONS 


83 

scheme, and I told the girls it would be a joke on you. 
But, to pay me for it, I upset my box in the hall com- 
ing from the other room, and away went one of my 
tacks, no one knows where.’^ 

“ Then where did that one come from that I found 
sticking in my drawing-board this afternoon?’^ ex- 
claimed Isabel, her eyes seeking Barbara. 

One glance from the girl caused Isabel to move 
swiftly toward her. Tell me,” she cried, bending 
down, tell me. Miss Palmer, did you put that thumb- 
tack in my board?” and she laid her hand imperiously 
on Barbara’s shoulder. 

“ I thought it was yours,” was Barbara’s reply, given 
in a low voice. 

Isabel raised herself to her full height and looked 
around the room. There was intense excitement 
visible upon her face. Girls !” she cried, it may 
seem like a little thing, but I must fathom the mystery 
of those thumb-tacks. Has any one else besides Madge 
and myself red thumb-tacks?” 

“ No, no !” came from all sides. 

And you lost yours on the second day of the 
competition in the hall, on your way from the other 
room ?” 

“ Yes, Miss Portia; I lost it in the hall.” 

“ Where did you find the one you put in my board. 
Miss Palmer?” asked Isabel, turning to Barbara, who 
had risen to her feet. 

“ In the heel of my shoe,” answered she. 

“ Then it is mine ; you must have picked It up in the 
hall,” exclaimed Madge, “ for the one Isabel lost was 
lost in this room, and has just now been picked up. 


HER VERY BEST 


84 

Give it to me, Isabel. Here, Elsie Jordan, give the 
thumb-tack you have just found to Isabel Bromley; 
it isn^t half as good as mine, I know, even if Miss 
Palmer has walked the paint nearly off. I want my 
own dear red thumb-tack back, so I do;’’ and Madge 
merrily held out her hand for the tack, which Isabel 
disengaged from the board and gave her. 

For the rest of the afternoon Isabel’s brain was in 
a whirl. Perhaps, after all, Barbara had never 
touched her work. There was only left the fact of 
the key. Her real proof had fallen through. A second 
time she sought Mr. Adams. 

“ Oh, Mr. Adams,” she exclaimed, without waiting 
for preliminaries, it wasn’t my thumb-tack, after all, 
which was in the heel of Miss Palmer’s shoe; it was 
Madge Delorme’s.” And she proceeded to explain. 

“ Then the mystery is entirely cleared,” returned 
Mr. Adams. I was going to find you to tell you of 
a discovery I made to-day. Some time ago I told the 
janitor, Mike, to hang some casts which had just ar- 
rived in the larger room. Mike, finding that there was 
scarcely room for them all, took it upon himself to 
hang one in the antique room. He. has duplicate keys, 
and can have access, of course, to all the rooms. It 
seems that he hung the cast by a piece of wire. Find- 
ing it too short, he eked it out, Paddylike, with a bit 
of twine, which, in the course of time, broke, as any 
one else would know it was likely to do. The cast, 
falling to the ground, knocked over your board, which 
stood under it, and a piece of the broken plaster made 
the cut in your paper. I only to-day learned the facts 
from Mike, for he has been home sick with the grippe, 


SUSPICIONS 


85 

and the man who took his place, when he cleared away 
the broken pieces, did not tell me. So poor Mike is 
the culprit through his stupidity, and little Miss Palmer 
is entirely innocent.” 

The tears were standing in Isabel’s eyes. “ Oh, the 
poor little dear! How glad I am! Oh, Mr. Adams, 
you don’t know how horrid I have been to her; how 
I have been despising her, and treating her as if she 
were a worm of the dust, and now I feel like a worm 
of the dust myself. What can I do to make it up to 
her ? She will think me such a silly, whimsical, flighty 
creature, as changeable as the wind, if I venture to 
make overtures now. What can I do?” 

^‘You can do as you would be done by,” said Mr. 
Adams, smiling. That will answer the difficulty.” 

But if I were countrified, and shy, and sensitive. 
Oh, what can I do? If I should take the prize, do you 
believe she would resent my giving the money to her? 
It is only the honor I care for.” 

“If you gave it as a queen bestows a largess, no.” 

“How then?” 

“ As our good gifts often come to us, silently.” 

Isabel looked up, a flash of appreciation coming into 
her eyes. “ I know now. You will help me, Mr. 
Adams. Oh, I deserve to humble myself for my arro- 
gance to that poor child. You will help me, Mr. 
Adams?” 

He gave assent and they parted. 

There was great excitement in the reception room 
of the art school. The girls had been there all day 
tacking up drawings and studies, decorating the cor- 


86 


HER VERY BEST 


ners with draperies and happy bits of color, till the 
place presented a delightfully artistic harmony of de- 
sign. 

Now the little company was gathered together. 
Isabel appeared, looking really handsome in shim- 
mering silk and creamy lace. Her parents were with 
her — for some of Mr. Bromley's friends were among 
the committee, and he was persuaded that it was a 
sufficiently important occasion for him to lend his aris- 
tocratic presence to the reception. Madge Delorme 
was there in a quaint, soft gown, her bronze hair piled 
high on her little head, and her white neck made 
whiter still by the string of curious beads about her 
throat. Barbara Palmer, in a rather shabby blue gown, 
her eyes bigger and her face paler than usual, shrank 
away in a corner, where, with hands tightly clasped, 
she waited for the announcement which should mean 
so much to her and Roger. She had told no one of 
the possibility which the day might bring, and had not 
asked even Mrs. Gardner to be present at the award- 
ing of the prize. She felt that she could not face fail- 
ure with her friends present. I have worked, and 
asked, and believed," she kept telling herself. “ Is it 
for nothing?" 

Seeing her in the corner, Isabel went over to her. 
It had not been easy to win back Barbara's confidence, 
which had begun to open toward this bright, handsome 
girl, but Isabel was not to be set aside when she had 
taken a determination, and Barbara smiled a greeting. 

‘‘We are comrades in misery," Isabel whispered. 
“ I am so excited I can hardly see anybody or any- 
thing. Won't you share my violets with me?" and 


SUSPICIONS 87 

she dropped a fragrant bunch into Barbara’s lap. 
“ They remind me of you,” she added. 

Barbara raised her eyes gratefully, and held the 
flowers to her face, without saying anything, for the 
critical moment had arrived. 


CHAPTER IX 


THE PRIZE 

And now there came a sudden hush. Mr. Adams, 
stepping forward, claimed attention. Behind him sat 
a row of dignified-looking men, — the committee; au- 
gust personages, in the eyes of the student. There was 
first a little address, with the usual humorous allu- 
sions and facetious tendencies. Then Mr. Adams said, 
“ I am asked to announce the decision of the com- 
mittee regarding the prize of a hundred dollars, so 
generously offered this year by Mr. Henry Warwick. 
It is the conclusion of the committee, all points of 

merit being considered, that the drawing of Miss 

Here Isabel took Barbara’s hand in a firm clasp ; both 
girls were trembling. Miss Isabel Bromley,” Mr. 
Adams went on, is the most deserving.” 

There was a great murmur of applause. Madge 
Delorme craned her lily neck to catch sight of Isabel, 
but the latter did not see any one. Her eyes were down- 
cast, and she still held the hand of Barbara. Neither 
did Barbara, whose face was hidden in the violets, 
look up. 

Mr. Adams cleared his throat. '' It is my pleasant 
duty to announce further,” he continued, “ that a sec- 
ond prize of equal value, one hundred dollars, is offered 
for the second best drawing from the antique. This 
prize is given by a friend of the school, who wishes 
to remain unknown, and it has been found by the com- 
88 


THE PRIZE 89 

mittee to be most worthily won by Miss Barbara 
Palmer/’ 

The violets which Barbara lowered from her face 
held two shining tears, and two more sparkling drops 
lay in the heart of those which rested in Isabel’s lap. 

Oh, you sly puss !” exclaimed the much-pleased 
Mr. Bromley, when his daughter lifted her radiant 
face to his. “ If these old friends of mine can see so 
much talent in your work, I shall be obliged to give 
in. Go ahead with your studies, daughter, as long as 
you like.” 

How shall you spend your money, Isabel ?” Madge 
Delorme asked. I suppose you don’t care a rap for 
the lucre. You’d rather have a little glory than a big 
check any day. I think you ought to give us girls a 
staving luncheon, anyhow, to make up for our disap- 
pointment.” 

“ The money is spent already,” laughed Isabel, “ but 
you shall have the luncheon just the same.” 

“ You extravagant girl ! I might have known it. 
I’ll venture to say you bought a picture.” 

Isabel shook her head. “ Not exactly,” she replied. 
Then her eyes met those of Mr. Adams, who had come 
up to offer his congratulations, and she saw in the 
good man’s face the recognition of her best impulses, 
and, to hide her happiness, she turned away and went 
to find Barbara, who was surrounded by her friends. 
For Mr. Gardner was one of the committee, and, with 
his wife, had covered their little friend with congratu- 
lations, and were presenting this and that well-known 
artist to her till she felt as if she could not carry her 
honors. She begged that her family should not be told 


HER VERY BEST 


90 

just yet, For,” she said, “ Roger and I have a secret.” 
And the promise was given. 

Isabel’s bright face was brighter than ever as she 
caught sight of the Gardners. Why,” she exclaimed, 
‘‘ here I find my choicest spirits all flocking together. 
I didn’t know you all knew each other. Aren’t you 
proud, Dora, of having two such talented friends as 
Miss Palmer and myself? Really — ^but do not say 
this to papa — she should have had first honors, for 
she has not been studying so long as I ; consequently 
she has made more progress.” 

'' It was almost a tie between you,” returned Mrs. 
Gardner, so my husband says, and we are very proud 
of Barbara. She has done wonders in these short 
months.” 

“You cannot put me down in that way,” laughed 
Isabel. “ I am delightfully stuck up this evening, and 
feel like flaunting myself all I know how. Oh, you 
are going now? You will let me come and see you 
all very soon, won’t you?” And with a bright smile 
and a warm hand-clasp Barbara parted from her rival. 

Her one thought now was to reach Roger. “ If I 
had only asked him to come home early,” she said to 
herself as she mounted the stairs, after parting from 
her friends. But Roger had come home rather early, 
and Barbara, in responge to his “ Come in,” stole up 
softly behind him and laid before his astonished eyes 
her crisp new hundred-dollar bill. 

With a start Roger wheeled around in his chair. 
“ Why, Bab! Why, Bab I” he stammered. “ Oh, say, 
now, that’s a mean joke. It’s one of those advertise- 
ment things.” 


THE PRIZE 


91 


“ No, it isn’t,’' Barbara assured him. “ It is just as 
much of a reality as possible. My prize money, fair 
sir.” And she made him a sweeping courtesy. 

“ Your prize money ! Why, Bab, what do you mean? 
Have you been fighting pirates, or what?” 

Barbara laughed. “ Now, isn’t that just the way a 
boy’s thoughts would run ? No, sir. ‘ I’ve been an’ 
done an’ drawed a figger,’ as Dibby would say. It is 
the second prize for the second best drawing from the 
antique at the art school. Oh, I was as much surprised 
as you. For no one dreamed there was to be any sec- 
ond prize, but there was, and it is mine. Now, Boggie, 
hurrah for the model of your machine! Didn’t I say 
it would come?” 

Roger was silent. Then he said, in a husky tone, 
“ Do you suppose I am going to take it from you, 
Bab?” 

Barbara’s face fell. “Why, Roger, I thought you 
would be so glad to have it,” she said. 

Roger’s eyes were bent on the floor. “ I couldn’t, 
Barby, I couldn’t. Mother wouldn’t want me to.” 

“ Yes, she would,” returned Barbara, eagerly. “ I 
know she would. She would say we must help each 
other.” 

“ Not that way.” 

Barbara looked distressed, but presently she bright- 
ened up. “ I tell you, Boggie, what we can do. I’ll 
lend it to you, if you won’t take it as a free gift. Surely 
you’ll not refuse to do that. No, please don’t. Why, 
Roger, I tried so hard, all for you.” And the tears 
began to roll down her cheeks, while the little sob in 
her voice was too much for Roger. 


92 


HER VERY BEST 


There, don’t cry, Barbara,” he said. “ You’re aw- 
fully good. I will borrow it, then, and pay you back 
the first money I can earn.” 

“ All right,” returned Barbara, briskly. Oh, Roger, 
I’m so happy.” And bending over, she kissed her 
brother’s forehead, a caress which did not bring a 
frown, for Roger, looking up, smiled and said, — 

“ You are my good angel, Barbara. You know how 
to tame the lion. Oh, by the way, I saw your hench- 
man this evening. He is working away for dear life, 
and looked as sober as a judge when I saw him. I 
wonder what started him?” 

A trembling little smile showed around Barbara’s 
mouth. 

'' You did,” cried Roger. “ No one else could. 
Good for you, Bab !” Then he added, gravely, “ if 
more people would take an interest in such boys, and 
talk to them the right way, there wouldn’t be so many 
loafers.” 

'' Never mind about Ike,” returned Barbara. I 
want to talk about your model.” 

Having once become convinced of Barbara’s sincerity 
and innocence, Isabel could not do enough to make up 
for her former suspicion, and one Saturday shortly 
after this Helen came running to her sister, saying, 
“ Oh, Barby, there is the most beautiful shiny carriage 
at the door, and such lovely, prancing horses, with 
jingling harness, all silver mounted, and such a stylish 
young lady has asked for you ! Meta is bringing her 
card now.” 

The stout, pleasant-looking maid followed Helen, 


THE PRIZE 


93 

her broad face beaming. She held out the card in her 
red fingers, “ Gnadiges fraulein,” she said, her very 
slight knowledge of English not doing justice to the 
occasion. 

Barbara took the card and read '' Miss Bromley.’’ 

Oh !” she exclaimed, “ it is Isabel Bromley. She has 
come to see me.” And feeling quite overcome by this 
evidence of Isabel’s interest in her, Barbara went down 
to see her fellow-student. 

Isabel greeted her warmly. I’ve come to carry you 
off, if you’ll go,” she said. “ I ought to have been 
more formal, but I can’t bear formality, and I do so 
want you to come and spend the day with me. Can’t 
you?” Barbara’s ready color flushed her face. She 
shrank from an entrance into a stranger’s home. 

“ I thought we could have such a good time,” said 
Isabel. You know I promised the girls a luncheon, 
and I should so like to have your help about it.” 

“ Mine ?” exclaimed Barbara, opening her eyes. 

*'Yes, you have lots of ideas, I know, and we can 
get up menu cards that will be unique. I’d so much 
rather do them myself, wouldn’t you?” 

“ I don’t know,” replied Barbara, ingenuously ; I 
never even saw one.” 

Isabel laughed. '' Oh, you’re such a dear violet,” 
she said. “ I think you are too deliciously natural for 
anything. You’ll soon discover what menu cards are, 
and I promise you we shall not be disturbed, for 
mamma is to be out all day.” 

This assurance gave Barbara the courage to accept, 
and in a few moments she was seated in the luxurious 


94 


HER VERY BEST 


carriage, bowling up Fifth Avenue, feeling quite as if 
she were living a fairy tale. 

Suddenly the carriage came to a standstill, and 
Isabel, looking out to discover the cause, saw quite a 
crowd gathered. She learned from the driver why 
the way was blocked, and turned to Barbara with a 
pleased smile. There is a parade coming,” she in- 
formed her. '' Don’t you want to see it ?” 

Oh, indeed I do,” she replied. “ I never saw one.” 

Isabel laughed. “Never saw a parade? How 
funny ! I have been seeing them ever since I was big 
enough to be held up to a window to look out. There, 
don’t you hear the band? I’ll tell Parker to wait for 
us here; we can’t see anything unless we get out. 
There, do you see that high stoop? We will go up 
there.” 

“ How funny to hear door-steps called a stoop,” said 
Barbara, in her turn finding something to surprise her. 
“ I never heard them called so at home. I wonder why 
New Yorkers always use the word.” 

“ I never thought much about it, but now you men- 
tion it I believe I have heard my uncle say that the 
word came from our old Dutch ancestors, and that it 
was originally spelled s-t-o-e-p. Yes, I remember, it 
was Uncle Van who told me. There, we’ll have to 
squeeze through the crowd. Oh, my, what a jam! 
Don’t let me lose you. Keep close to me. Oh, thank 
you, Mr. Mercer ; we should like to have a less popular 
spot.” And Barbara saw that her friend was speaking 
to a young man who had issued from the door-way of 
a shop which they were passing. 

“ Come right in. Miss Bromley,” said Mr. Mercer, 


THE PRIZE 


95 

the front window up-stairs will afford you a good 
view.” And passing through the shop, where obse- 
quious clerks bowed right and left, Barbara found 
herself, presently, very comfortably settled in a chair 
in front of a large plate-glass window, from which a 
good view of the street could be obtained. 

“ How nice !” she whispered to Isabel. “ Is the gen- 
tleman a friend of yours?” 

Isabel looked amused. In the sense of taking 
mamma’s orders very carefully, but not in a social 
sense. We deal here, and Mr. Mercer is always polite 
to his customers.” Barbara marked the haughty little 
air, and drew her own inference of what that same 
mamma must be. 

Oh,” she said to herself, “ I’m so glad I’m not to 
meet the aristocratic Mrs. Bromley. I can imagine 
just how she would look at me.” 

But her attention was here attracted by the approach 
of the parade, and for half an hour or more she was 
absorbed in gazing at the glittering array of march- 
ing troops and in listening to the martial music of the 
bands. Oh, how I wish Roger were here,” she said 
at last, with a sigh. 

“ I’ll venture to say that Roger has seen a dozen 
parades,” observed Isabel. “ No boy of his age is 
going to stay in New York for six months without 
finding a chance at looking at some sort of a fine pro- 
cession. There, Barbara, I think that is the ragtag 
and bobtail of it now. See, those are advertisements, 
that long string of wagons.” 

Barbara would like to have watched them, also, for 
the wagons, which, in some cases, bore fantastically 


HER VERY BEST 


96 

dressed men who threw printed handbills right and left, 
were as much of a curiosity to her as the parade had 
been. But she followed Isabel down-stairs to the front 
door, where Mr. Mercer bowed them out, and they 
found their carriage in waiting before the curb. 

“ You must see the coaching parade,” said Isabel. 
“ That will be new to you. All the coaches make a 
start out on a certain day in May, and it is quite a sight 
to see the gorgeous costumes the ladies wear. The 
world and his grandmother turns out to see them. I 
claim you for that day, remember, and will let you 
know when it is.” 

By this time they had drawn up with a dash before 
the door of Isabel’s splendid home, and Barbara fol- 
lowed her friend up the broad steps, through the hall, 
where rich rugs and every evidence of wealth met her 
eyes. 

You don’t mind going to the third floor, do you?” 
asked Isabel, turning around at the second flight of 
steps, which led to her rooms. I must live where I 
can get light and air. Papa is so enthusiastic now 
over my late performance that he offers to build me a 
studio, but I like my own little work-room best.” And 
she opened the door of a room which was the most 
beautiful Barbara had ever seen. Everything that 
wealth could offer to beautify the place was there. The 
dressing-table was filled with elegant silver toilet 
articles; the silken draperies, filmy lace curtains, soft 
chairs, and bits of bric-a-brac, with numberless little 
objects of interest such as girls love to have, — photo- 
graphs and college programmes, dinner favors, and 
mementoes of summer outings and winter festivities, 


THE PRIZE 


97 

— all these represented luxury such as Barbara had only 
read about. 

“ You see I have a sunny bedroom,” said Isabel, “ but 
my studio has north windows, and we will work there. 
Take off your things, and we’ll have a cosey time all 
to ourselves.” 

So, before long Barbara found herself ensconced be- 
fore a table talking interestedly about the menu cards, 
and nibbling at dainty candies, a box of which stood 
upon the table. . 

In the midst of their work the dignified butler, who 
quite overawed Barbara by his magnificent livery, 
knocked at the door. “ Mr. Henry Vandermeer is here. 
Miss Isabel, and will stop to luncheon,” he announced. 

Isabel looked disturbed. “ Oh, Barbara,” she said, 

I am so sorry my uncle has come to interrupt our 
cosiness. I thought we’d be all alone. You must try 
not to care. He is really very nice, and I’ll wind him 
up to talk of Mexico and South America, so you can 
listen if you don’t care to talk.” 

And Barbara, feeling quite abashed at meeting a 
stranger, murmured some assurance, little knowing 
what she was to discover through this chance meeting. 


7 


CHAPTER X 


A NEW ACQUAINTANCE 

To Barbara, who had never had an intimate friend, 
Isabel was a revelation; her little, imperious ways, 
her sudden meltings into tenderness, her graceful at- 
tentions, her sparkling wit, entirely captivated the little 
country girl, and she probably never spent a happier 
morning than this one. Although there were two years’ 
difference in their ages, and unlike as were the lines 
of the two girls, there were certain points of contact 
they seemed to touch very often. 

“ You are such a dear,” Isabel would cry, suddenly. 

You have the dearest, childlike ways. Yet the minute 
I begin to feel that you are a baby you say something 
so wise and experienced that I feel as if the tables had 
turned, and it makes our friendship so spicy. Pve been 
looking for you all my life. I wish I could remember 
exactly the day I met you, so I could mark it red on my 
calendar.” 

I can tell you,” said Barbara, blushing. ‘‘ It was 
the fifteenth of November.” 

Isabel jumped from her chair, rushed for a calendar, 
and, dipping her brush in her color-box, gave a touch 
to the calendar, which she gayly held aloft, crying, 
“ See my red-letter day !” 

But the bright vermilion-hued figure suggested the 
red thumb-tacks, and the color mounted to Barbara’s 
cheek as she remembered Isabel’s scorn of her, the 
reason for which she had never been able to fathom. 

98 


A NEW ACQUAINTANCE 


99 

The thought came to Isabel, too, and flinging down 
the calendar she was in a moment at Barbara’s side, 
with her arms around her. 

“ You dear, transparent thing,” she said, “ I know 
just what you are thinking about, and I am going to 
confess how mean and suspicious I was before I knew 
how like a clear crystal you are.” 

And she made her confession, kneeling by Barbara’s 
side, 

“ There, I feel better,” she said in conclusion. 
“ Please to forgive me.” 

She looked so handsome, so winning, that Barbara 
impulsively leaned over and kissed her, at which pro- 
ceeding Isabel hugged her rapturously, and the seal of 
their friendship was s^t. 

“ I think menii cards are enticing,” said Barbara, 
holding one off to view the effect. ‘‘ I like that little 
verse so much. I am so glad to learn about these pretty 
things, and I have more ideas now than I know what 
to do with.” 

“ You are coming to the luncheon, you know,” re- 
turned Isabel. “ We are going to have it at the art 
school. Mr. Adams says I may give it there, for, to tell 
you the truth, mamma is so queer. She has such ridicu- 
lous notions about the students, and says I am too 
democratic in my tastes. So I think we can have a 
nice, free-and-easy time at the school ; for I don’t want 
any of the girls to be made uneasy by my mother’s 
dignity.” 

And Barbara quite agreed with her. 

“ You see,” continued Isabel, “ we are each to wear 
some quaint sort of a costume, and after the luncheon 


Uifc 


lOO 


HER VERY BEST 


we are to sketch each other. Then some one is to num- 
ber the sketches, and whoever has a corresponding 
number on her menu card will have that sketch as a 
‘ sovenoor,’ as my nurse used to say, of the day.’’ 

“ Oh, what a lovely idea !” exclaimed Barbara. I 
think that is fine. When is it to be?” 

“ Oh, I don’t know. As soon as these cards are 
ready, and before we all go out of town for the sum- 
mer.” 

Barbara smiled at the matter-of-course way in which 
Isabel presupposed that every one went out of town. 

‘‘ I don’t expect to go out of town,” she said. “ I 
should like Helen to go, but I must stand by Boggie.” 

“ Your brother?” 

Yes.” 

“ I wish I had a brother, but suspect it is as well 
for the impossible brother that I haven’t. I’m a selfish 
creature. I’m afraid.” 

“ Oh, no, you wouldn’t be,” returned Barbara, 
earnestly. Not if you knew your brother needed 
you.” 

Isabel shook her head. And here, luncheon being 
announced, Barbara arose with some trepidation, re- 
membering she was to meet a stranger. 

As she entered the dining-room, the hush of which 
was only broken by the clinking of ice in the glasses 
and the crackle of the open wood-fire, Barbara saw 
at first only the table, with its fine napery, delicate glass 
and china, and the solemn butler standing in state. 
But some one came forward from the bay-window and 
was presented as “ My uncle, Mr. Vandermeer.” 

Barbara felt that she acknowledged the introduction 


A NEW ACQUAINTANCE 


lOI 


with little grace, and realized more fully than ever her 
lack of a knowledge of what she told herself were 
“ society manners/' She slid into her seat at the table 
feeling very awkward and constrained, hoping no at- 
tempt at conversation was expected of her. 

However, Mr. Vandermeer’s first words shattered 
her hopes, for, turning to her, he said, — 

“ Your name is a familiar one to me, Miss Palmer, 
although it is not an unusual one. I suppose you do 
not happen to be related to a Blake Palmer?" 

Barbara looked up quickly. That is my father's 
name," she replied. 

'‘Is it possible?" Mr. Vandermeer regarded her 
keenly; then, dropping his eyes, he fixed them upon 
his plate, keeping silence for some time. 

Isabel, in her capacity as hostess, made an effort to 
arouse him to his usual vivacity. 

When are you going to Mexico again. Uncle 
Henry ?" she asked. “ Barbara, he is a real ' globe 
trotter.' We can't keep him at home. I suppose by 
next week he'll be on his way to Patagonia. He has 
actually been in New York all winter, but I suppose, 
the spring being here, he will emigrate, as usual." 

Mr. Vandermeer seemed scarcely to hear his niece. 

'' Do not think me curious. Miss Palmer," he said, 
''but have you always lived in New York?" 

" Oh, no, we have not been here a year. We came 
from Maryland." 

" And you were born there ?" 

Barbara named the village where she had first opened 
her infant eyes. 

"Is your mother living?" asked Mr. Vandermeer. 


102 


HER VERY BEST 


“ How you do catechize, Uncle Van put in Isabel, 
wondering at his interest in her friend. 

“ No,” replied Barbara, “ she died four years ago. 
We live with our grandfather.” 

Oh, yes, your grandfather,” repeated Mr. Vander- 
meer, thoughtfully. And all Isabel’s bantering could 
not rouse him into the bright humor which she hoped 
would entertain them. 

The luncheon was not gay, for Barbara was too 
timid to talk much, and only Isabel’s own effort kept 
it from being a silent meal. 

As they were leaving the table Mr. Vandermeer 
gravely asked Isabel if he might have a few words 
with Miss Palmer, and Barbara in agitation joined 
him in the library. 

“ Miss Palmer,” began Mr. Vandermeer, I wish 
I knew the most comforting way to tell you something. 
You say your mother is not living. What of your 
father? Pardon me for asking. It is not idle curi- 
osity.” 

We do not know where my father is,” replied Bar- 
bara. ‘‘ He left us when my little sister was a baby. 
Mamma always said he had gone to seek his fortune 
and would come back some day, but he never has come. 
So now, Roger, my brother, and I are sure he never 
will come; but my grandfather, I think, has never 
given up the hope that he is alive and that we shall 
see him some day.” 

If you knew positively, it would be a certain re- 
lief, would it not, even if the truth were that you could 
never see him on earth again?” said Mr. Vandermeer, 
gently. 


A NEW ACQUAINTANCE 


103 

“ Yes/^ returned Barbara, looking up with wistful 
eyes. “ It is so dreadful not to know where he is ; to 
imagine he may be ill, suffering, in trouble or danger. 
I think it is that which worries my grandfather.” 

Mr. Vandermeer laid a kind hand upon her shoulder. 

My dear child,” he said, ^“your father is not 
living.” 

Barbara started, and the tears sprang to her eyes. 

“ Shall I tell you about it ? Can you hear it ?” he 
asked, in sympathetic tones. 

“ Oh, yes, please,” replied Barbara, piteously, won- 
dering what terrible possibilities lay behind the in- 
formation. 

He died as a brave man should. You have every 
reason to reverence his memory. He laid down his 
life for a friend.” 

Barbara gave a little gasp of thankfulness, although 
the tears were dropping fast. 

I knew the friend,” continued Mr. Vandermeer. 

We were a party in Mexico at a time of great poli- 
tical trouble. We were, most of us, fearless and im- 
petuous, expressing our opinions without hesitancy. 
This friend, Nohez, who was a native Mexican, was in 
danger of being arrested, and, besides this, he had 
made some bitter enemies. Some friends of his, to 
get him out of the threatened danger, hustled him one 
night on board a steamer which took him out of the 
country. I learned afterward that, in order to do this 
successfully, it was necessary for some one to repre- 
sent the exiled man, and it was your father who volun- 
teered to appear in his stead. I think none of us felt 
that there was any doubt but that he would escape 


104 


HER VERY BEST 


when it was discovered that he was not Nonez; but 
the matter was conducted in a way which was prompted 
by treachery and revenge. Those employed to despatch 

Nonez felt that somebody was to be shot, and ” 

He paused, and Barbara faltered out, — 

“ And he, my father, was shot instead.^’ 

Mr. Vandermeer nodded as he turned from her, his 
own feelings overcoming him. 

In a moment he regained his composure. 

“ I did not know of it till two years after, and then 
I tried to find your mother, but I could not trace her. 
The name of the town where she lived had escaped 
me, and although I sent letters out, they were always 
returned. I made a seach myself, but was told she was 
not living. In those days, when we were comrades, 
I remember Blake spoke of his father. I think he felt 
that he had been a disappointment to your grandfather, 
and he was anxious to make a record to be proud of 
before he should return.” 

He made it,” replied Barbara, softly. ‘‘ It has been 
so long, Mr. Vandermeer, and that makes it easier. 
It is my grandfather who will feel it the most. Poor 
grandfather !” 

“ When he is ready to see me I shall be at your ser- 
vice,” said Mr. Vandermeer, gravely. 

Thank you,” replied Barbara. “ You have been 
so kind to tell me this in the most comforting way. It 
is strange to know that it is really so. I cannot quite 
grasp it yet, but I am very thankful he died so bravely 
for another.” 

She turned and left the room, going up-stairs to 
where Isabel was waiting for her. 


A NEW ACQUAINTANCE 


105 

“Well, what was the weighty secret?” inquired 
Isabel, meeting her at the door. “ Oh, Barbara, was 
it really anything serious?” 

“ Yes,” replied Barbara, “ and it is all so very 
strange. Tm afraid I can’t stand telling you just now. 
Your uncle will. And I must ask you to excuse me 
if I go home now. I really must. No,” as Isabel 
oifered to accompany her ; “ you mustn’t mind if I 
go alone. If you will let me come another day to help 
you finish the cards, I shall be very glad to do it,” she 
said, looking up with a faint smile. 

“ Oh, will you come ?” said Isabel. “ How good of 
you ! I will call for you any day that you say. I am 
so sorry you must go in trouble. I shall come to see 
you very soon.” And she took Barbara’s face between 
her hands and softly kissed her. 

Then Barbara took her leave, thinking little of the 
splendors she had left, but rather with a great dread 
of the task before her, that of telling her grandfather 
what she had just learned. 

There was no sound to be heard as Barbara entered 
the house. Meta’s usual cheerful song was missing, 
and there was an absence of the scraping of violins. 

“ Where can they all be ?” thought she, as she went 
from one room to another. On the top floor she found 
Roger hard at work. 

“ Why, Barbara !” he said, “ I did not hear you 
come in. I thought you were going to stay all day. 
Did you get mad and come home? Didn’t you like 
the halls of the rich and the great?” 

“ Oh, yes,” replied his sister, sitting down on the 
side of the bed. “ It was lovely, Roger. You never 


Io 6 her very best 

saw such magnificence. I wish I could tell you half 
I saw, and Isabel is a dear girl. I never knew girls 
could be so nice. But, oh, Roger, such a strange thing ! 
I met Isabel’s uncle, Mr. Vandermeer, and he knew 
papa when he was alive.” 

Roger turned quickly. 

When he was alive ?” he repeated. “ How do you 
know he is not still alive?” 

Mr. Vandermeer told me,” answered Barbara, her 
voice trembling. And she related her story, while 
Roger sat with his gaze bent on her. At the close he 
gave a long sigh, saying, — 

“ It is far different from what we expected.” 

I am very thankful,” responded his sister. “ It is 
so much to be able to remember always that he gave 
up his life for another.” 

Yes,” replied Roger. “ But, Barbara, grandfather 
must be told.” 

Oh, yes, I must tell him. Where is he ?” 

He went out — no, he has just come in. I heard 
him shut his door. Meta took Helen to see the parade, 
and then they were going to the park. Mr. and Mrs. 
Blumenbach are out, too.” 

“ Then I’ll go to grandfather,” said Barbara, with a 
troubled look. 

“No and Roger stopped her. “ You must let me, 
Barbara.” 

She drew back in surprise. 

“ Yes,” returned Roger. “ There is something to 
be learned from what my father did. It was very brave 
of him to die. I must be brave, too, and I’m for — for 


A NEW ACQUAINTANCE 


107 

grandfather, and you, and Helen.” And there was a 
little catch in Roger^s voice. 

Truly, Roger was a strange boy, Barbara told her- 
self as she allowed him to leave her without another 
word. He always found a different meaning in things 
from that she expected. How strange for him to take 
this so! 

She sat waiting for her brother’s return, telling her- 
self that she would then go to her grandfather and 
comfort him. Ought she not to have gone with Roger ? 
she thought. 

‘‘ I was a coward. I hated to go through the ordeal,” 
she sighed. 

Just then came a startled call from below; then 
Roger came rushing up the steps. 

“ Barbara 1 Barbara !” he cried. “ I don’t know what 
is the matter with grandfather. He — ^he — oh, I don’t 
know. Come quickly 1” 


CHAPTER XI 


SAD HOURS 

Reaching her grandfather with all possible speed, 
Barbara found him leaning heavily against the side of 
his arm-chair, his hand hanging nervelessly by his 
side. 

“ Grandfather ! grandfather !” she cried. Speak 
to me. Oh, Roger, run for the doctor, quick, any 
doctor, the nearest one.’’ And while her brother sped 
upon his errand, she vainly tried to bring a recognizing 
glance from her grandfather’s dulled eye. 

Although it was but a short time before Roger re- 
turned to Barbara, it seemed hours. 

The doctor, fortunately, came at once. “ A slight 
paralytic stroke,” he told them. “ I do not think it is 
a dangerous attack,” he said further. “ And if Mr. 
Palmer has the good constitution I judge he has, he 
may not have a recurrence for years, if ever. Has he 
had any mental shock of late ?” he asked. 

Barbara looked at her brother. “ Yes,” she made 
answer, seeing that he was silent. And she gave the 
doctor a short account of what had happened. 

He nodded his head gravely. No doubt, no doubt 
that was it,” he said. And Barbara, remembering that 
Roger did not possess the gift of fortunate expression, 
reproached herself for her cowardice in leaving him 
to make the revelation alone. 

But, although in a few days Mr. Palmer recovered 
108 


SAD HOURS 


109 


speech, the right hand did not regain its powers, and 
the old violoncello stood silent in the corner of the 
room. 

It was fortunate that the Palmers were under the 
roof of such kindly people, and good Mutterkin was 
unwearied in her attention to the invalid, while Herr 
Blumenbach, in his good, hearty way, brought sunshine 
into the sick room whenever he came. 

In spite of all, however, Mr. Palmer did not rouse 
to an interest in that which went on about him. He 
clung to Barbara, but from Roger turned almost with 
aversion, it seemed; and Barbara, who knew her 
brother’s heart yearned toward her grandfather, was 
greatly distressed. ‘‘ If I had only taken the telling 
into my own hands,” she said to herself. “ I know 
grandfather would not have turned against me, but 
poor Boggie, he has no tact, and grandfather asso- 
ciates him with this loss, I am afraid.” 

Once only did Mr. Palmer refer to his son, and then 
it was to say musingly, “ You remember your father, 
Barbara?” 

Oh, yes, grandfather,” she made reply. Then after 
hesitating she said, softly, '' Aren’t you glad, grand- 
father, that he is safe ?” 

Her grandfather turned and looked at her as if a 
new idea had struck him. “ Safe?” he repeated. 

“ Yes,” said Barbara. Mr. Vandermeer had lately 
told her some things which had comforted her greatly, 
and she repeated them, telling of a swift little prayer 
sent up, in the face of death, of a few solemn words 
said at parting from his friend. 

Mr. Palmer did not reply, but sat looking out into 
the soft spring sunshine. 


no 


HER VERY BEST 


Barbara stole out of the room and came back with 
a slip of paper in her hand. Poetry, music, pictures, 
these always appealed to her grandfather, and she sat 
down by him saying, I cut such a dear little poem 
from the paper to-day. It reminds me of Dibby and 
the people in dear old Maryland. And then, in her 
soft voice, she read, in the dialect so familiar to them 
both: 

“ De massa ob de sheepfoP, 

Dat guard the sheepfoP bin. 

Look out in de gloomerin’ meadows, 

Whar de long night rain begin. 

So he call to de hirelin’ shep’ ad, 

* Is my sheep, is dey all come in ?’ 

“Oh, den says de hirelin’ shep’ ad, 

* Dey’ s some, dey’ s black an’ thin, 

An’ some dey’ s po’ ole wedda’ s. 

But de res’ dey’ s all brung in. 

But de res’ dey’s all brung in.’ 

“ Den de massa ob de sheepfoP, 

Dat guard de sheepfoP bin. 

Goes down to the gloomerin’ meadows. 

Where de long night rain begin. 

So he le’ down de ba’s ob de sheepfoP, 

Callin’ sof’, ‘ Come in, come in !’ 

Callin’ sof’, * Come in, come in !’ 

“ Den up t’ro’ de gloomerin’ meadows, 

T’ro’ de coP night rain an’ win’. 

An’ up t’ ro’ de gloomerin’ rain-paf, 

Whar de sleet fall pie’ cin’ thin, 

De po’ los’ sheep ob de sheepfoP , 

Dey all comes gadderin’ in ; 

De po’ los’ sheep ob de sheepfoP , 

Dey all comes gadderin’ in.” 


SAD HOURS 


III 


“ Thank you, daughter,’’ said her grandfather, when 
she had finished, then, leaning back, he closed his eyes ; 
and from that time began to look with more interested 
vision upon the world. 

But the poor right hand which used to draw the 
bow with such grace across the strings of the ’cello 
refused to waken the sonorous chords. Yet it seemed 
as if the closed heart found new expression. And 
the invalid gradually became aware of what was ab- 
sorbing those around him. He began to notice the 
small affairs of others, and quite surprised Barbara, 
and even Helen, by his attention to their little interests. 

By the time the June roses came he was able to go 
about, a little falteringly, to be sure, but quite readily. 

Isabel had been a devoted friend all this while, and 
would bring dainties, send flowers, call and take Bar- 
bara and her grandfather to drive, so that Barbara felt 
that her friendship was not a thing of idle words. 

Mr. Vandermeer, too, called frequently, until he 
took his departure from the city, so that a pleasant 
relation was established between him and Mr. Palmer. 

The luncheon had been deferred, Isabel absolutely 
refusing to give it unless a majority of the class could 
be present, and seemed to consider Barbara the ma- 
jority; so while she was absorbed in her attentions 
to her grandfather the luncheon waited. 

Barbara’s first outing after the long confinement in 
her grandfather’s sick-room was to the Gardner’s. The 
delightful musical evenings instituted at Mr. Gardner’s 
studio were always a pleasure to Mr. Palmer. Now, 
however, he could not venture out at night, and Bar- 
bara missed his presence, and her thoughts turned to- 


II2 


HER VERY BEST 


ward the sonata of the great-great-grandfather, Nich- 
olas Palmer. It was only a few days before that her 
grandfather had spoken of it. I shall publish it some 
day,” he said, “ but I am first anxious that it should 
be well rendered where the world can hear and ad- 
mire.” His belief in its merit was great, but, some- 
how, every one did not share it, and so far it had not 
been easy to find a place and opportunity for present- 
ing it. Or was it a certain timidity and reticence in the 
old man which forbade his urging its claims? 

On this special evening Barbara learned that a noted 
musician was present, and, although blushing at her 
own temerity, she made known to him the existence of 
the old manuscript. “ I should like to see it,” he said ; 
“ will your grandfather allow me to look it over ?” 

Barbara had her own plans, and she answered, “ I 
am sure I can get it, if you would like to see it,” being 
well pleased at the interest she had awakened. “ I 
would take it to you,” she suggested, as Mr. Jamison 
remarked that it would not do to risk sending it by 
mail. 

“ Oh, that would be most kind,” he replied to her 
suggestion, and setting a day and hour, he gave her 
his address, and left the girl in a state of pleased ex- 
citement. 

Oh, how fine it would be to see to it all myself,” 
she thought ; “ to find that Mr. Jamison would bring 
it out. I should so love to give grandfather a surprise. 
Fancy how amazed he would be to go to a concert and 
hear them play the sonata by Nicholas Palmer.” And 
she went home full of her plan, which she unfolded 
to no one. 


SAD HOURS 


II3 

How shall I get the manuscript without letting 
grandfather know,” was the question which Barbara 
found so hard to answer, that at last, conscientious 
little maid though she was, temptation overcame her, 
and she decided to take it from its usual place and 
carry it to Mr. Jamison without asking leave. Fm 
doing it all for grandfather,” she kept telling herself, 
to stifle the protest conscience made, and she waited, 
with her mind quite made up, till the day should arrive. 

Meanwhile, there came a new experience in the 
taking of a trip to Coney Island with the Blumen- 
bachs. 

Such a jolly party was that which started for the 
sea-shore the next morning. The salt breezes met 
them as the steamboat left the harbor. The fine har- 
bor where vessels from all over the world were lying. 
Flere a graceful schooner, dipping and courtesying 
upon the waves, sailed past, then a huge ocean liner 
was being towed in by an energetic little tug-boat; 
again, a sound steamer like a floating palace swept by, 
while all the while the ferry-boats, “ like big turtles,” 
so Helen said, plied back and forth. 

The statue of Liberty enlightening the World seemed 
very near, and the long line of Staten Island lying 
beyond looked very fair in the morning light. 

“ * Sweet fields beyond the swelling flood 
Stand dressed in living green.’ 


Doesn't it remind you of that?” said Barbara, turning 
to speak to her brother. But Roger had long ago gone 
down to see if he could get a sight of the engine-room, 
8 


> 


HER VERY BEST 


1 14 

and having come across an officer, who was attracted 
by the keen interest the boy showed, and had taken 
him under his wing, v/as now being shown all over 
the vessel. 

So Barbara sat still upon her camp-stool, which she 
found on deck, and gave herself up to the enjoyment 
of the stiff breeze, which met them as the steamboat 
cut through the water. 

Herr Blumenbach took Helen in tow as soon as they 
landed; Roger wandered off to investigate the won- 
derful things which were offered for his amusement, 
and the rest took up their places upon the pier, where 
it seemed to Barbara she would be content to sit all 
day to watch the big breakers roll in, or to look off 
at the blue ocean and see a white sail flitting across, 
or perhaps to watch a little row-boat riding in upon 
the waves. 

It was a wonderful day for the three children, and 
they never forgot the pleasure which this first sight of 
the wide sea brought them. 

All this excitement quite put the thought of the 
sonata out of Barbara’s head, and it was not till the 
next afternoon that she remembered her promise to 
take the manuscript to Mr. Jamison. 

Watching her opportunity, she slipped into her 
grandfather’s room and bore it with her to her own 
quarters. Half an hour later she was on her way to 
the piano warerooms over which Mr. Jamison had his 
office and studio. 

She found the musician promptly on hand, and, in 
a tremor of fear as to what might happen, left the 
manuscript, promising to call for it the next day. 


SAD HOURS 


I15 

“ Oh, dear,” she said to herself, as she went out. 
“ What have I done ? Suppose anything should hap- 
pen to it. Suppose Mr. Jamison’s studio should burn 
up. Oh, dear. I’m afraid I should have asked leave 
to take it.” And she was in a quiver of suspense until 
the next afternoon, when she returned to find it safe 
and sound. 

“ I should like very much to see your grandfather,” 
Mr. Jamison said. “ I find this very interesting, and 
should like to have the honor of placing it before one 
of our musical societies, and if Mr. Palmer is willing, 
I am sure there will be no difficulty in having it 
properly rendered.” 

So Barbara started home very happily, feeling that 
she had accomplished what she set out to do, and rather 
inclined to give herself credit for being a very astute 
young person. 

“ I don’t know what grandfather will say to my 
taking the manuscript without leave,” she said to her- 
self ; “ but, after all, I had a sort of a right to it. 
Nicholas Palmer was my ancestor, too, and I owed 
him a certain duty.” But there was a little protesting 
twinge, withal, and Barbara made her way through 
the crowded streets to the library, where she meant to 
stop for a book, with a little uneasy feeling of not 
knowing exactly what would be best to say in vindi- 
cation of her act. 

Having procured her book, she took the elevated car 
for home. She was quite used by this time to the 
swift-moving cars, and hung on to her strap as they 
swung around the corners, thinking it no novelty. She 
noticed a black-eyed little old lady eying her sharply. 


ii6 


HER VERY BEST 


and she wondered why her face seemed familiar, but 
her corner being reached, she got off without satisfy- 
ing herself on the subject, and hurried toward home. 

But suddenly she came to a standstill with an ex- 
clamation of dismay. The manuscript was gone! 


CHAPTER XII 


AUNT THANKFUL 

Retracing her steps, Barbara looked closely along 
the street through which she had just come; but there 
was no sign of the lost package, and in despair she 
rushed up the steps leading to the Elevated Railway 
station she had just left and inquired of the man at 
the ticket office, but all the information she gained was 
that, if her address were on the package, it might be 
returned, and that inquiry could be made at the office 
in Rector Street. She was satisfied that it was in her 
hands when she entered the car, for she remembered 
shifting it under her arm more securely when she 
reached for the strap. She decided to tell Roger to 
call at the office to make inquiry for her, and then she 
returned home in a much less complacent frame of 
mind. Her only consolation lay in the fact that her 
grandfather’s name and address had been written on 
the package by Mr. Jamison. It was Saturday after- 
noon, and, as was likely to be the case, every one was 
out except the maid ; but Barbara, entering the sitting- 
room, came upon a little old lady rocking and knitting 
briskly. 

“ Well ! well ! well !” she said ; “ here you are at 
last ! I’ve been watching the clock for half an hour.” 
This as though Barbara had failed to keep an engage- 
ment. “ Where’s your grandfather ?” 

'' Grandfather ? Why, let me see ; I think he gen- 

117 


ii8 


HER VERY BEST 


erally goes to a rehearsal with Mr. Blumenbach on 
Saturday afternoons.’' 

Now, isn’t that Roger Palmer all over !” said the 
little old lady, turning her bright eyes upon Barbara. 

I suppose he still clings to that ’cello. Why, in the 
name of common sense, doesn’t he have more git-up- 
and-git about him, like other men? Which are you, 
Helen or Barbara?” 

I am Barbara.” 

“ And I suppose you’ve no notion who I am ?” 

No,” replied Barbara. “ I don’t think I have.” 

“ I’m your Aunt Thankful — Roger Palmer’s aunt. 
Thankful Ray.” 

Barbara stared. Surely this old lady could not be 
more than her grandfather’s age. 

Yes, of course, you look astonished. I’m no older 
than your grandfather, if I am his aunt. Goodness 
knows, I might as well be the aunt of any one else for 
all I’ve heard of him these ten years past. His mother 
was my eldest sister, a matter of twenty years between 
us.” 

“ I’m so glad you are a relation !” said Barbara, her 
face lighting up. 

“ You are?” responded the old lady, quite mollified. 
'' Then perhaps you’ll be doubly glad when you see 
what I’ve brought and, diving down into a bag, she 
brought forth the lost packet. 

“ Oh,” exclaimed Barbara, darting forward, I am 
so glad! Oh, thank you! I remember you now. I 
see now that you are something like my grandfather. 
I saw you in the car.” 

“Yes, and when you got out this slid from under 


AUNT THANKFUL 


your arm and fell at my feet. Well, truth is stranger 
than fiction! And when I picked it up and saw the 
address you could have knocked me down with a 
feather. I got out of the car at the next station, for 
I soon satisfied myself that I was on the right track. 
You look like your mother,’' she added, abruptly. 

‘‘ Oh, did you know mamma ?” 

Certainly I know her. Blake Palmer met her at 
my house.” 

“ Oh,” exclaimed Barbara, how delightful to see 
some one who knew mamma then! You can tell me 
so many things. I am so very glad to get this package ! 
It is very valuable, for it is an old manuscript which 
my grandfather thinks everything of.” 

“ Yes ; I know it is that old manuscript of Nicholas 
Palmer’s.” 

Why, did you know about it ? Did you ever see it 
before?” 

“ Scores of times, and I recognized it as soon as I 
opened the package, for I wanted to be sure if it were 
my Roger Palmer, and that settled it. What were you 
doing with it, pray ?” 

Barbara flushed up, and then confessed the whole of 
her error. 

What are you going to say to your grandfather ?” 
asked Miss Ray, with a penetrating look. 

‘‘ I am going to tell him all about it. Oh, Aunt 
Thankful, you do not think I would deceive him about 
it?” 

“ Judging from what you have just done, I think I 
had a right to,” she remarked, incisively; and Bar- 
bara, feeling the truth of this, recognized her fault 


120 


HER VERY BEST 


more plainly than before. “ Well, well,” continued the 
old lady, seeing Barbara’s look of humility, ‘‘ it is quite 
likely I am a little hard on you. I don’t know you yet.” 
And she changed the subject by putting many ques- 
tions which Barbara was kept busy answering till her 
grandfather returned. 

“ Well, Roger Palmer,” exclaimed Aunt Thankful, 
as he entered the room, “ why on earth haven’t you let 
me know you were here?” 

Mr. Palmer started, and then came hastily forward. 
'' Thankful Ray !” he exclaimed, “ this is indeed a 
surprise.” 

Of course it is,” was the reply. ‘ It’s an ill wind 
that blows nobody good.’ Tell him, Barbara, how I 
happened to find you.” And the girl faltered out her 
tale. 

Her grandfather shook his head over the losing of 
the manuscript and was very grave, but at Barbara’s 
account of her interview with Mr. Jamison he lost 
sight of the disaster and began putting questions about 
the musician, which Barbara answering satisfactorily, 
he was much pleased, and said, Well, my child, I am 
glad you were so ready to do honor to your ancestors. 
I shall be most pleased to receive Mr. Jamison. Would 
that I might once more bring out my old ’cello ! But 
you did wrong, Barbara! You did wrong!” 

“ I know it,” she replied, with downcast eyes. I 
am sorry I took it without leave, but I did not want 
you to be disappointed if I failed.” 

“ I appreciate that,” returned her grandfather. “ But 
a truce to these unpleasant topics. Tell me. Thankful, 
all about yourself.” 


AUNT THANKFUL 


I2I 


“ Well, if you remembered anything, you would 
know that I live at the old homestead, where your 
mother was born,’’ she returned. 

Mr. Palmer nodded. 

It is just up here in Westchester,” she went on to 

say. 

“ I remember. I remember.” 

“ I haven’t any one but myself,” Aunt Thankful in- 
formed him ; myself, and my cats, and my parrot ; 
but I love the old place, and mean to stay there. I 
come down to New York every whipstitch, however, 
so I’m not so terribly behind the times. Come out to 
see me, Roger, and bring these children. I want to 
get acquainted with them. Helen Farquhar, their 
mother, was the sweetest girl I ever knew.” And 
Aunt Thankful took her leave after obtaining a promise 
from her nephew that he would bring all three of the 
children to see her the next Saturday. 

The result of that visit was that the way was opened 
to several things. Helen found that Aunt Thankful 
would be delighted to take Ducky ; Barbara discovered 
fascinating old costumes in the chests up in the garret, 
from which she was allowed to select something to 
wear to the luncheon. Roger found in Aunt Thankful, 
whimsical, brusque, sharp though she was, an appre- 
ciative relative, who neither frowned down his oddities 
nor laughed at his enthusiasms, and Mr. Palmer, find- 
ing himself treated like an ordinary, sensible mortal, 
began to respond to what was expected of him. 

“ It doesn’t do to consider some people too much,” 
said Aunt Thankful, sagely. '' You’ve been spoiled, 
Roger Palmer. Who are you that you should be ex- 


122 


HER VERY BEST 


cused from taking your part in the battle of life? 
Wake up, man ! You’ve a duty to these grandchildren 
of yours, and you ought to have seen it long ago. If 
you hadn’t been fed on sugar and had velvet cushions 
to lie upon, maybe you might have done better. Those 
dear, good little things! It’s a wonder they are not 
as crooked as rams’ horns with such bringing up. It’s 
nothing to your credit that they’re what they are. It’s 
all their mother’s doing, and nothing is due to the 
Palmer side.” 

And Mr. Palmer smiled and replied, “ It sounds very 
natural to hear you berate me. Thankful. You were 
always doing it when I was a boy.” 

“ Well, you certainly needed it,” returned Aunt 
Thankful, tartly. 

The luncheon, which took place before the end of 
June, was a great success. Nothing could have been 
prettier than that gathering of youth in the quaint 
costumes of those who were long ago young, who had 
grown old, and whose very names were well-nigh for- 
gotten. Isabel, in the dress of a Dutch maiden, with 
her queer head-dress and her silver ornaments, re- 
ceived her guests. Madge Delorme wore the costume 
of a French girl of the fourteenth century, in keeping 
with her Huguenot blood Elsie Jordan appeared as 
a demure little Puritan, in cap and folded kerchief, 
while Barbara wore her great-great-grandmother’s 
short-waisted wedding-gown, long mitts, and the big 
bonnet in which the aforetime Barbara had “ walked 
bride.” 

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AUNT THANKFUL 


123 


each girl’s bunch of roses which lay by her plate, and 
after the luncheon the girls, following these labyrin- 
thine clews, wandered from room to room to dis- 
cover what might be at the other end of these silken 
guides. 

“ Oh, I Ve found mine !” came from Madge Delorme 
in the hall, as she came upon a little box hidden behind 
a picture. “ Oh, girls, I have such a pretty some- 
thing!” 

Following this came a similar call from Elsie Jordan, 
and then one after another returned to the dining-room 
to display their favors. Elsie’s was a pretty little 
statuette of “ Priscilla, the Puritan Maiden.” Madge 
found a tiny Dresden figure of a shepherdess in her 
Watteau gown; Anita Garcia discovered a Spanish 
fan ; Barbara disengaged from the end of her silk cord 
a jewel box in which lay an enamel violet, a tiny dia- 
mond dew-drop sparkling in its heart, while the other 
girls were equally well remembered. 

“ Such lovely things, Isabel I” said Madge. “ You 
are nothing if not a princess.” 

And such a luncheon as it was ! All the dainties 
which girls like were set forth upon a table in the 
largest of the class-rooms at the school, where about 
a dozen girls were gathered. 

The menu cards were not the least appreciated of 
the features of the occasion, and when, after the feast, 
the girls set to work to make their sketches, it became 
apparent that the rest of the afternoon would be oc- 
cupied in this way. Mr. Adams came in later, and 
there was a merry time over the criticisms, for some of 
the sketches were very funny. The number on Bar- 


124 


HER VERY BEST 


bara’s card won for her Madge Delorme’s spirited little 
water-color of Isabel. To be sure, it did not much 
resemble the model, but it was a nice, fresh piece of 
work, and Mr. Adams praised it, so Barbara felt her- 
self well content at having secured it. Mr. Adams 
himself made one or two sketches, and, to her great de- 
light, bestowed upon Isabel the one of Barbara. Then 
and there the girls organized a summer sketch class, 
declaring that there was too much talent among them 
to go to waste, and they parted in high good-humor. 

“We have certainly had a good time,” said they. 
“We hope you’ll win a prize every year, Isabel, if this 
is the use you make of it.” 

It had been a great experience for Barbara. She 
was gradually expanding in more than one direction, 
and for a little time, when in the current of pleasure, 
she envied Isabel her gay world, with its luxuries, its 
butterfly sporting in the sunshine. But, for some rea- 
son, when these thoughts threatened to get the best of 
her there came a remembrance of that street full of 
crowded tenements, of the loveless lives, of the des- 
perate hand-to-mouth struggle for existence, and to- 
day she turned out of Fifth Avenue, up and down 
which luxurious carriages were rolling, to the quiet 
side street where she lived, a feeling in her heart of 
there being greater riches to desire than those which 
gold could buy. 

She found her grandfather deep in a conference with 
Mr. Jamison. 

“ Well, Miss Palmer,” said the latter gentleman, “ we 
have arranged to bring about the sonata. It is a pity 
your grandfather is not able to join us in the ’cello 


AUNT THANKFUL 


125 

parts. I imagine he could add much to the composi- 
tion.” 

“ I should like to sit among the musicians with my 
old ’cello,” Mr. Palmer said, wishfully. “ I have so 
often dreamed of the time when I should play the solo 
myself. I know it so well ; every note, every mark is 
stamped upon my memory.” 

Certainly you shall sit with us,” replied Mr. Jami- 
son. “We shall all feel honored and inspired by your 
presence.” And he made his farewells after settling 
upon a date when the sonata should be heard. 

It was only a summer concert before a small audi- 
ence, but it represented the world, and, therefore, when 
an interested little company, consisting of the Gard- 
ners, the Blumenbachs, Roger, and his sisters, gathered 
in the small hall they awaited the issue with intense 
interest. 

It was, after all, something of a venture to place the 
sonata of Nicholas Palmer alongside selections from 
such great masters as Beethoven, Mozart, and Schu- 
mann. So Mrs. Gardner felt, and she wondered if the 
performance would not fall flat upon the audience. 

One, two, three numbers were played ; then it came. 
The first movement over, then came that in which the 
’cello solo occurred. Barbara, watching, saw her grand- 
father lean forward, saw him tune his ’cello with the 
others, a strained look upon his face, as if he would 
defy all weakness. Then, with the soloist, he too raised 
his bow, and the feeble fingers, which for weeks had 
been unable to grasp anything, found new vigor, and 
the rich, tender notes arose clearly. The other ’cellist 
looked up wonderingly, and presently he stopped, after 


126 


HER VERY BEST 


glancing at the leader, while Mr. Palmer went on 
unfalteringly — on — on — amid breathless silence. It 
seemed as if the old ’cello fairly spoke — as if it bore 
a message long hidden in its strings. There were tears 
in Mrs. Gardner’s eyes as she leaned forward. Her 
husband rose to his feet, then sat down again, remem- 
bering. And as the other instruments came in and 
took up the theme there was a stir among the audience, 
for they had recognized the playing of no ordinary 
hand. What if the rest of the sonata were common- 
place and scarce fulfilled even ordinary promise ? That 
one movement redeemed the work of Nicholas Palmer, 
and Barbara, with hot cheeks, felt that, in spite of all, 
she bore some part in the triumph, and that her effort, 
somewhat misguided as it had been, had helped her 
grandfather to the fairest moment he had known in 
all his life. 

And when at the close he was called before the audi- 
ence of music lovers and bowed with his courtly grace, 
the girl felt a strange exultation; then, looking at 
Roger, she saw that there were tears in his eyes. Poor 
Boggie,” she thought, “ I am afraid he has failed after 
all his effort,” for no word had she been able to get 
from him concerning his invention since that day when 
his abrupt disclosure of his father’s fate had so affected 
their grandfather. 


CHAPTER XIII 


HONORS 

But Roger had not been idle. He had striven to 
the uttermost, had faced failure doggedly, and had 
finally overcome difficulties, cheered by Barbara’s help 
and sympathy. Now he was ready to test the work- 
ing of his little machine. But he was a strange boy, 
and on that fateful day when his grandfather lay help- 
less before him he had determined not to give out the 
news of his success till he should see his grandfather 
again able to enjoy his greatest source of pleasure, his 
’cello. “ I won’t enjoy anything unless grandfather 
does,” he told himself. And now the supreme moment 
had come, and the ’cello, which spoke of returning hope 
to the old man, spoke, too, to the boy, who longed for 
a word of approbation from the one whose opinion he 
most valued. 

'' Oh, grandfather, it was wonderful !” said Barbara. 
“ Ah, your good right hand ! I am so happy.” 

“ And I, too, my. child,” he replied. “ It has been a 
wonderful realization of a long-felt desire; and your 
effort made it possible.” 

The next evening Roger strode into the sitting-room 
with a small model in his hands. Young Mr. Blumen- 
bach was with him, an exultant look on his face. “ I 
am a very proud young man,” he said, '' for I have to 
introduce to you the inventor of a very clever little 
machine, which I think is going to be of great use in 
some of our shops. Here is the machine.” 


127 


128 


HER VERY BEST 


“ And you are the inventor, I suppose,^’ Mr. Palmer 
said, courteously. 

Mr. Karl .smiled. '' No ; I wish I were. Here is 
the inventor.” And he pulled Roger forward. 

Mr. Palmer dropped his glasses in surprise. You !” 
he exclaimed. “ Not you, Roger?” 

Yes,” said Mr. Karl. “ Pll tell you all about it.” 
And he began with the history of Roger’s efforts, tell- 
ing of his studies at the Cooper Institute ; of his per- 
sistent trials till success came; of how he would not 
ask for the means to have the model made. 

“But where did he get the money?” Mr. Palmer 
asked. “ Where did you get it, Roger ?” 

“ From Barby,” was the reply. “ I should never 
have had the money nor the encouragement but for 
her,” he continued, unheeding Barbara’s frowns and 
head-shakings, and in his blunt way covering her still 
further with confusion by adding, “ Do you suppose 
I’d let you, or any one else, do anything for me with- 
out giving credit for it? I don’t take things I’m 
ashamed to acknowledge.” 

“ But you would only borrow it,” Barbara pro- 
tested. “ Grandpa, he wouldn’t let me give it to him.” 

“ But where did you get it ?” 

And now it was Barbara’s turn to look conscious, as 
Roger told of her having won the prize, and of her 
keeping it a secret on his account. “ But,” she said, 
turning the tables, “ I don’t understand your keeping 
this a secret so long. Why, the model was to have 
been done long ago.” 

Roger cast a swift glance at his grandfather, and 
then he looked down, blurting out, “ Do you suppose 


HONORS 


129 


that I was going to let myself be happy over it, when 
grandfather was deprived of his happiness in not being 
able to play on his 'cello?” 

Mr. Palmer’s face took on a curious expression; 
his lips trembled, and, getting up, he walked unsteadily 
to where his grandson stood, a proud, defiant look on 
his boyish face. '' My boy,” said the old man, putting 
his hands on the lad’s shoulders, “ you shame me. I 
am touched beyond expression. Have I so misunder- 
stood you all these years?” And bending down, he 
kissed Roger’s forehead, and the boy grew white to 
the lips with emotion. At last he had won this. 

Roger must love you awfully hard, grandpa,” 
piped up Helen’s childish voice. “ I’m awfully proud 
of him, aren’t you?” 

Proud ? I am proud of you all, my children,” said 
their grandfather. “ I who thought myself a loveless, 
hopeless old man, to receive all that has come to me 
this day! to receive affection unstinted, praise un- 
looked for ; success and honors for those of my name, 
for those who have gone before me and for those who 
now redeem the promise I once hoped would be ful- 
filled in him who was my son. What a blind dreamer 
I have been, wrapped in my own selfish grief! Oh, 
my friends, I am very happy to-night.” 

And Herr Blumenbach, for once, had no merry sally 
to make, while the frau kept patting her son vigorously 
on the back as if to encourage herself in not shedding 
tears which filled her eyes. 

Oh, Boggie, Boggie,” said Barbara, '' I’m so proud 
of you, and of grandfather, too. What talent you 
have !” 


9 


130 


HER VERY' BEST 


And you, too,” put in Helen. You won the prize, 
and we never knew it. Oh, Barby!” 

“ To be sure, no one has congratulated Miss Bar- 
bara,” said Mr. Karl. Thereupon, they all rushed for- 
ward, and presently the girl found herself in the centre 
of a merry ring, for the rest joined hands and danced 
around her, even Mr. Palmer trying to take stately 
steps as he found himself unable to break away from 
the clasp of Herr Blumenbach’s big hand. 

In the midst of the merriment the Gardners came in, 
bringing Isabel Bromley with them, and, being ushered 
into the room by the smiling Meta, they were surprised 
to see a strange performance: six persons galloping 
wildly around Barbara, and singing, at Helen’s sugges- 
tion, “ Here we go round the Barbara bush.” 

“What game are you playing?” cried Mrs. Gard- 
ner. “ You are the most ridiculous people that ever 
were.” 

They all stopped short, and then came explanations, 
bringing with them fresh praises for Roger and his 
grandfather. 

“We knew all about the prize,” said Mrs. Gardner. 
“ Isabel won the first prize, you know.” So, carried 
away by the spirit of the occasion, another and larger 
ring was formed around Isabel, who declared that she 
did not see why Mr. Palmer and Roger should be left 
out of the exercises, and, breaking through the band, 
she escaped, when Roger and his grandfather found 
themselves encircled, the old rnan resting his hand on 
the shoulder of the boy, who felt warmed to the heart 
by the unfamiliar caress. 

That night Barbara stole up to her brother’s room 


HONORS 


131 

before she slept. She found him sitting before his 
mother’s portrait, the little model on the table in front 
of him. “ Dear old Boggie !” was all that Barbara 
could say. 

Roger put his arm around her, and what was in the 
heart of the other each knew. 

Aunt Thankful’s I told you so,” when she was 
informed of Roger’s success, was what might have 
been expected, and her sharp suggestions and tart re- 
marks to Mr. Palmer no doubt had their effect in in- 
stituting certain plans he made for his grandchildren. 

How often do you go to church, Roger Palmer ?” 
Aunt Thankful asked one day. 

“ I ? Why, Thankful, I have not felt that I could 
go since — since Blake left us,” was the reply. 

“ Humph ! That’s the way you appreciate your 
blessings. My goodness, Roger Palmer, I get out of 
patience with you ! What’s kept that boy of yours 
from going into all sorts of evil? Not your example. 
I’ll be bound, but his mother’s lasting influence and his 
sister’s patience and sympathy. What has kept those 
two little girls from mischief? Your watchful care? 
Not a bit of it. It’s high time you bestirred yourself 
to look after your own eternal welfare, since they seem 
to be able to take hold of what is good for them with- 
out any help from you. The idea of a man of your 
age shirking the responsibilities the Lord gave him 
along with such treasures as not many men have. 
What are you going to do about it ?” 

“ Why, really. Thankful, I don’t know. What would 
you suggest?” 

“ I would suggest your taking a pew in church and 


HER VERY BEST 


132 

going with those children every Sunday like a Chris- 
tian and a good citizen, instead of allowing them to be 
under obligations to strangers for a seat. They have 
been sitting in the Gardners’ pew ever since they have 
been in the city.” 

‘‘ Really, Thankful, you have a very unpleasant way 
of recalling me to my duty, although I must acknowl- 
edge that I have never thought of this before; and I 
am quite shocked to think that I have allowed the chil- 
dren to accept the Gardners’ hospitality for so long. 
I will see to sittings at once, even if I do not go myself 
to church.” 

Miss Thankful snapped off her thread sharply. 

Don’t you think you owe the Lord some sort of ser- 
vice ?” she asked. “ Is it given many men to be proud, 
at the last, of a son like yours ?” 

Mr. Palmer started as if stung by a whip. Hush, 
Thankful, hush!” he said, in an agitated voice. 

No, I shall not,” was the reply, given calmly. '' It 
is better to talk about it. He died like a hero, no matter 
how he lived. Does that demand nothing from you? 
Is it nothing that you are restored to the use of your 
hand? Is it nothing that those children are ready to 
give you respect and affection and consideration? I 
tell you, Roger Palmer, you’d better look yourself 
over.” 

And the looking over resulted in the punctual at- 
tendance at church thereafter of the entire family, if 
it did nothing else. Roger found himself relied upon 
as being his grandfather’s special companion on Sun- 
days, so by degrees the wall was broken down between 
them and a full affection grew up. In time Roger 


HONORS 


133 


responded to his grandfather’s trust in him by giving 
more punctilious regard to his speech and his appear- 
ance, and this was a matter of satisfaction to Barbara 
as well. 

It was largely due to Isabel and Mrs. Gardner that 
Barbara outgrew her little awkwardnesses, and it was 
due to Barbara that Isabel found the answers to cer- 
tain grave questions which she met steadily and un- 
flinchingly. Helen spent much of her time with Aunt 
Thankful, whose home held great delights for the little 
girl. Ducky waddled about in the yard and found 
comforting mud-puddles and ample ponds in which to 
revel. The cats were as interesting as the parrot, and, 
altogether. Aunt Thankful’s old home by degrees took 
the place of that Maryland one to which Helen never- 
more returned, for, as time went by, new interests 
were brought by the new environment. 

“ I should not care to go back now,” Barbara said to 
her grandfather. 

'' Nor I,” he replied. “ I will sell the place to Mr. 
Haynes, who has made me an offer for it, and we will 
make Aunt Thankful’s house our Mecca when we want 
to go on a pilgrimage to the country.” 

So Barbara works away at her drawing with Isabel 
daily a dearer companion. Through Mr. Karl’s exer- 
tions, Roger sold his patent, and proudly repaid his 
sister with part of the money, and it is certain that, in 
consequence, Ike Kellar had a much more heavily 
laden basket to carry the next Christmas. Ike, it may 
be said, is bearing out his promise of winning respect, 
and talks of the day when he shall have a shop of his 
own. As for Roger’s prospects, he is not likely to 


134 


HER VERY BEST 


disappoint his grandfather, from the present outlook, 
and if, sometimes, the lion mood gets the better of him, 
Barbara has learned that to beard him in his den is 
a better plan than to let him alone, and the mood soon 
passes off, for work is the best cure-all for discontent, 
and of work Roger has an abundance. 

Nicholas Palmer’s sonata was published at last, and 
there are but the few who, having heard that fine ’cello 
solo, call it an unusually good composition. To the 
rest of the world it seems only mediocre. 

It is so pleasant to have Frau Blumenbach to mother 
them all and to hear Herr Blumenbach’s hearty laugh, 
that the idea has not yet occurred to the Palmers of 
leaving their pleasant quarters in old Greenwich vil- 
lage, as Barbara likes to call it, although to New York 
in general it is but one of the unfashionable neighbor- 
hoods which help to make up the city. Aunt Thankful, 
however, has a great respect for the place, knowing 
the traditions which surround it. Aunt Thankful, by 
the way, was a valuable discovery. She keeps every 
one in order, and the sharpness of her tongue does not 
in the smallest degree detract from the warmth of her 
heart, nor from her good sense; and, after all, she is 
a most satisfying individual, for, even if she goes to 
the very heart of a fault, she always gives credit where 
it is due, and she does not allow her vigilance to relax, 
so that to live up to her idea of one it becomes neces- 
sary to do one’s very best. 

One Sunday evening, not very long ago, there might 
have been seen gathered in Frau Blumenbach’s sitting- 
room a small company. There was a tall man with 
scanty white hair, playing upon the ’cello an old Ger- 


HONORS 


135 


man air. Looking over his shoulder was a dark-eyed 
lad who sang heartily that fine old hymn of Luther’s, 
“ A mighty fastness is our God.” All were joining in, 
some in German, some in English. Sweet and clear 
above the rest came the voice of a girl, who sat with 
hands clasped, her eyes seeming to look off into the 
future where trial and struggle perhaps await her, but 
she has learned to be patient, and is ready for whatever 
the years may demand. 


PART II. 


CHAPTER I 

A SKETCHING PARTY 

It was upon a morning in May that a group of girls 
were chattering volubly in one of the ferry-houses on 
the New York side of East River. Each girl carried 
her sketching-materials and a compact, square parcel, 
and all seemed to be waiting for some one. 

“ Another boat going,” spoke up one of the number 
as the clattering chain and warning bell announced 
that a ferry-boat was about to leave the slip. We’ll 
miss that train as sure as you live, girls.” 

“ Oh, well, it doesn’t matter much,” one of the party 
replied. “We don’t absolutely have to go to Flushing, 
you know. This is a kind of a frolic, and we can go 
to one place as well as another, if we feel like it. We 
might go up to Forty-second Street and take a train 
out from there almost any time. I think it’s prettier 
up in that direction, anyhow.” 

“ And I, too,” declared Madge Delorme. “ There 
are so many picturesque bits along the Sound.” 

“ Here they come at last,” cried Elsie Jordan. “ I 
know Mr. Adams’s stride, and Mrs. Adams is with 
him. Isabel and Barbara are just behind them.” And 
136 


A SKETCHING PARTY 


137 

she waved her camp-stool to attract the attention of 
the three now approaching. 

Here we are, Mr. Adams ; every mother’s son, I 
was going to say, but for son read daughter. We were 
beginning to think something had happened, and that 
we should have to give up this long-talked-of trip,” 
Madge said. 

“ It was my fault, Madge,” Isabel hastened to say. 

I am so unused to catering, that I forgot all about 
the luncheon I was to bring, and had to stop at the 
last minute to get something.” 

You needn’t have done that,” Madge told her. 
“ I’m sure we’ll have twice as much as we can eat ; 
one always does at a picnic or excursion of any kind. 
This is the last boat over, so we’ll have to hurry. Isn’t 
it a gorgeous day? I don’t suppose I’ll touch my colors. 
I always get lazy when I go off like this, and I give 
myself up to enjoying the out-of-doorness.” 

What a word !” laughed Isabel. “ Come, Barbara, 
don’t let me lose you. I want to go forward where we 
can see up and down the river. No, you shall not 
carry my box. I’m bigger than you are. Here, we’ll 
pile the things in a heap on the floor.” 

The boat was soon grinding against the sides of the 
slip, then there came a scramble to get on the train; 
but at last, this part of the journey over, they found 
themselves in the veritable country, as Madge averred. 

And look at us all streaking after Mr. Adams,” she 
said, like the twenty lovesick maidens in Patience.” 

It is rather a ridiculous sight,” Isabel acknowl- 
edged. “ It is a pity the masculine element isn’t better 
represented. Mr. and Mrs. Gardner said they would 


HER VERY BEST 


138 

try to join us later in the day, and that will even up 
matters a little. Ten females and one lone man is rather 
a one-sided state of affairs. Is this the place where 
we are to come to a halt? Isn’t it a lovely spot? My, 
but I’m glad to be rid of these traps ! Sketching has 
its disadvantages in compelling one to carry such a 
lot of stuff. I positively could not burden myself with 
a stool, and shall depend upon mother earth for a spot 
on which to rest my weary bones.” 

Look at Barbara ; if she hasn’t begun already,” 
said Madge. Did you ever know such untiring de- 
votion? During the two or three years that she has 
been among us I believe she has accomplished more 
than any girl in the school.” 

“ I know,” returned Isabel, plaintively. She isn’t 
fettered by social duties, as I am.” 

Madge laughed. “ That is always Isabel’s plaint,” 
she remarked to Elsie Jordan. “ Her grudge against 
social codes is something inherent. Being hampered 
is the worst condition she can imagine. I think her 
great-grandfather must have been a freebooter or a 
pirate on the high seas. Wasn’t he, Isabel?” 

“ Of course not,” she replied. “ Look at the light 
on Barbara’s hair. Isn’t it something exquisite? I 
must have a try at her as she sits there. Please toss my 
paraphernalia over, Madge. It is just there by you.” 

“ Which are you going to use, oil or water-colors?” 
Madge asked, lazily watching Isabel. 

“ Water-colors, I think, although that glint lends it- 
self better to oils, but the other is quickest. Don’t 
move, Barbara,” she called. 

Barbara gave a little smiling glance in her direction, 


A SKETCHING PARTY 


139 


and then went on with her work. In a few minutes 
Isabel flung down her brush in despair. It is simply 
impossible. She is the most subtle thing, anyhow, that 
I ever saw. Fve tried dozens of times to make a good 
study of her, but I have never succeeded. It would 
take a Sargent to do her justice.” 

Madge picked up Isabel’s sketching block and began 
to scribble fantastic figures on it, but she threw it down 
almost immediately. “ I can’t do anything,” she said. 
“ This is one of the days when ^ it is enough for me not 
to be doing, but to be.’ Where are you off to, Isabel?” 

“ I’m going to hunt up some sequestered nook. All 
the others have pitched in and are getting that bit of 
a barn and the mill-race. I scorn to be a copy-cat. I 
want to find something strictly original. Will you go, 
Madge?” 

“ No, thank you. I’ve no idea of falling into bogs 
or of stumping my toes against hidden snares in the 
way of moss-covered stones.” 

Isabel picked up her box and started off on her own 
account. “ You were impossible, as usual,” she said, 
as she passed Barbara. “ How are you getting along?” 

'' Fairly well. I’m not attempting too much.” 

“ Wise child. Your modesty always prevents your 
getting swamped, while my untoward ambition 
plunges me into all sorts of quagmires.” 

'' Where are you going ?” 

To hunt up some quiet spot where I can commune 
with nature and myself, and where I won’t have half 
a dozen girls to ask me how I am getting on. I want 
to be where I can make all the mistakes I choose and 
no one be the wiser. When you have finished what you 


140 


HER VERY BEST 


are doing, come hunt me up. I shall probably be in a 
fit state of humility by that time to be led meekly back 
by a halter.. That’s such a deliciously fresh little sketch 
Mr. Adams is at work upon. I am seized with a desire 
to go and do likewise. Good-by.” 

“ Don’t get into any trouble, off by yourself.” 

“ No, I’ll try not. I fancy I’ll not get so far away that 
the wolves will fall upon me and leave my bones bleach- 
ing on the sands.” And she sauntered off, leaving Bar- 
bara to finish her sketch. 

It was perhaps half an hour later that the sketch was 
completed ; at least Barbara told herself that, with the 
sun rising higher and higher, the effect of light and 
shade "did not warrant her continuing. “ I’ll spoil it,” 
she said, looking at it critically, and I might as well 
let it go for what it is worth. I’ll hunt up Isabel.” 

She took her way across the road and followed a 
path which seemed to offer attractions. “ She’d be 
pretty sure to come this way,” Barbara thought, and a 
short walk proved that she was right in her conjectures, 
for not far off she saw the scarlet poppies in Isabel’s 
hat ; they seemed to be bobbing about in a most reck- 
less manner, and Barbara hastened her steps to find 
out what was the matter. When she was within call- 
ing distance she stood still. “ Isabel ! Isabel !” she 
cried, “ what is the matter ?” for Isabel was dodging 
behind first one and then another of two trees. 

Since no reply reached her, Barbara called again. 
Isabel did not turn her head, and then Barbara saw 
that she had fixed her gaze upon a belligerent goat, 
which, with head down, was making lunges at her. 
Barbara advanced a step or two. 


A SKETCHING PARTY 


141 

“ Don't come any nearer," cried Isabel. “ The wretch 
has eaten up my sketch and upset my color-box, and 
now is determined to have me. Is it because I look 
very green, Barbara?" she asked, hysterically. 

“ I never saw you display such agility," said Bar- 
bara, half laughing, yet feeling a little anxious, for 
Master Billy did look so very wicked. “ Run for the 
fence," she said, and I’ll see if I can’t beat him off." 

I’ll do nothing of the kind," replied Isabel between 
her dancing flights. 

But at this moment some one was seen vaulting the 
worm fence. Next he ran rapidly toward them and 
seized Master Billy by the horns, and Isabel was free 
to run to Barbara’s side, breathless from her efforts. 

The two were starting across the field when suddenly 
Isabel stopped. “We can’t go without thanking him," 
she said. “ What is he doing ?’’ 

Barbara glanced over her shoulder. “ He seems to 
be dancing with the goat," she replied, with a laugh 
she could not repress. “We will have to go back any- 
how, to get your sketching things. I see a heavy stick 
lying over there ; let us take that to Mr. Deliverer." 

Isabel agreed, and they retraced their steps. “ Will 
you have this?" Barbara asked, holding out the stick 
which she had picked up. 

“Yes, thank you," was the reply from the young 
man, who was still sturdily wrestling with the goat. 

“ But please don’t hurt him." 

The young man laughed. “ Is he a pet of yours ?’’ 

“ No, indeed. We never met him till to-day." 

“ I’ll not hurt him, although he needs a lesson in 
good manners." 


142 


HER VERY BEST 


“ That is why we came back/’ said Isabel, mirthfully. 
‘‘We thought we were not setting a good example.” 

At sight of the stick the goat ceased his attacks, and, 
shaking his head, ran oif, leaving them victors of the 
field. 

“ You were sketching,” the young man said, picking 
up Isabel’s color-box and looking interested. 

“Yes,” she replied; “that was what first attracted 
the goat. He was so delighted with the realism of my 
work that he insisted upon eating the sketch. I hope 
he found it good.” 

“ It was very good,” the young man answered, so- 
berly. 

Isabel shot him a look of surprise. “ How do you 
know?” she asked, quickly. 

“ I was mean enough to peep as I was passing be- 
hind where you were sitting. You were too absorbed 
to notice me, but, being one of the fraternity, I had to 
look.” 

“ Oh !” Isabel’s haughty expression melted into one 
of pleased surprise. “Were you sketching, too? 
Where?” 

“ Just over the fence in that field. There are some 
nice little bits about here. Will you let me walk to 
the road with you, that I may be able to ward off future 
attentions from our friend, the goat ? Or, if you would 
not mind waiting for me a moment. I’ll go back and 
get my stuff and then see you safely established wher- 
ever you will.” 

Isabel hesitated, but, glancing up, she saw Billy re- 
garding them steadfastly from the edge of the field. 
“ His head waggles too ominously,” she said to Bar- 


A SKETCHING PARTY 


143 

bara ; and see, he is edging this way. I think, if you 
don’t mind, it would be rather comforting to feel that 
we have the protection of some one not hampered by 

petticoats. Mr. ” 

Lawrence Merrill,” he replied, readily. 

“ Oh !” Barbara exclaimed ; “ then you know Mr. 
Adams, of course. I’ve heard him speak of you, and 
— Isabel, you remember the Water-Color Exhibition 
last year — you must go back with us, Mr. Merrill. We 
are here ostensibly to sketch, but it is quite as much 
to have a little picnic and a good out-of-doors time be- 
fore we part for the summer. We’ll wait for you, of 
course.” He took advantage of the suggestion and 
hurried off. 

“ And we never thanked him after all,” Isabel said. 
“ I’m glad you didn’t tell him that I bought that picture 
of his, and, oh, dear ! I’m glad now that the goat ate 
up my sketch. No, I’m not — oh, I don’t know — I’ll 
make another. Yes, I must make another some time 
to-day.” 

‘‘ That hint of a picnic is too much for me,” Mr. 
Merrill acknowledged when he returned. “ I must ad- 
mit I’m wofully hungry, and I am going to throw my- 
self upon your tender mercies.” « 

“ I can offer you — what did I get, Barbara ? — cakes 
and crackers and cheese and sardines and such things.” 

And I have apple-kiicken and Frankforters and all 
sorts of German ' wittles,’ ” Barbara informed him. 

“ The vision is too alluring. Am I walking too fast 
for you ? My footsteps hasten unconsciously as I learn 
what is before me,” Mr. Merrill made response. 

Don’t tell about the goat,” Isabel said, hurriedly, 


144 


HER VERY BEST 


as they came upon the group spreading out luncheon 
under the trees. 

“ Where did they find him ?” whispered Madge De- 
lorme to one of the other girls. “ I wonder who he is.” 

Some friend of Isabel’s, no doubt,” Nita Garcia 
returned. 

Not a bit of it,” Madge declared. Those knicker- 
bockers might belong to one of the four hundred, but 
that coat never was any one’s but an artist’s. I am 
puzzled.” 

Lawrie Merrill, as I live !” cried Mr. Adams, jump- 
ing up from where he was stretched at ease upon the 
ground. “ Where on earth did you come from ?” 

Halloo, Will ! I’m in luck to-day. I came off on 
a lone hunt for a bit of nature, and I stumble upon 
this delightful surprise party.” 

Consider yourself one of us, my dear boy,” said 
Mr. Adams, heartily clapping him upon the shoulder. 
“ Mr. Lawrence Merrill, ladies, a brother artist, and 
a fellow to help us have a good time. Been working, 
Lawrie ?” 

'' Just a little. I didn’t accomplish very much. May 
I help to make the coffee, or do anything like that? 
I’m very willing and obliging.” 

“ Where did you ever meet him? Isn’t he a dear?” 
whispered Madge to Isabel. I’ve heard of him, of 
course ; but where did you ever know him ?” 

Why, he is a friend of the Gardners,” replied Isa- 
bel, innocently enough, and Madge was satisfied. ‘‘ It 
was perfectly true,” Isabel said to Barbara afterwards, 
and I had to get out of it some way ; for Madge is 
such a chatterbox, and is no respecter of persons. She 


A SKETCHING PARTY 


145 


would be sure to tease me before mamma or some of 
them at home, and you know mamma would be per- 
fectly horrified at such an unconventional meeting. 
She is always railing at the lack of formality among 
artists, and is desperately afraid that I will disgrace 
the family some day. It would never have done, of 
course, to allow any sort of an acquaintance, unless we 
had known all about Mr. Merrill from Mr. Adams and 
the Gardners. No one despises more than I do that 
making of an acquaintance in a chance way, for all 
mamma’s fears.” 

“ This was a different case,” Barbara acknowledged. 

And I don’t believe he is a man to take a mean ad- 
vantage, anyhow,” she added. 

No, I don’t imagine he is,” Isabel agreed. 

The two were busy compounding a dish of lobster 
salad, for which Mrs. Adams had brought materials. 
They confided their secret to this good friend, and she 
assured them that they need have no compunctions. 

I’ll present him properly after a while,” she said, for 
he has confided to me that he doesn’t know your names, 
except that the tall one is Isabel and the ‘ little girl 
with the Titian hair is Barbara.’ ” 

“ Oh, that I had Titian hair !” sighed Isabel. “ I 
know he will ask Barbara to sit for him.” 

Mrs. Adams laughed, and warned her that she was 
in danger of spoiling her vaunted lobster salad, and 
at that moment came a signal from Mr. Adams, who 
sounded a blast upon a tin horn, and they all flocked 
to luncheon. 


10 


CHAPTER II 


THE END OF A DAY 

Before the meal was over Mr. and Mrs. Gardner 
appeared upon the scene, and the fun ran high. Mr. 
Gardner, Mr. Adams, and Lawrence Merrill were kin- 
dred spirits, and were capable of more nonsense than 
any three men she ever saw, Mrs. Gardner declared, 
and when they took turns in riding an old cow, in 
turning hand-springs on the grass, and in performing 
such fantastic antics as the girls had never seen 
equalled, they were ready to agree with Mrs. Gardner. 

The afternoon sun was making long shadows before 
any one started to work again, and it was then that 
Isabel’s prophecy was fulfilled, for Mr. Merrill found 
Barbara too great a temptation for his artistic soul to 
resist, and he began a sketch of her. “ Do you mind 
my watching you ?” Isabel asked. ‘‘ I have tried so 
often to get a good study of Miss Palmer, and I have 
never been able to do her justice. She is so dear. You 
don’t know what a dear child she is.” 

“ She is very young?” 

About nineteen. She came to New York when she 
was a little over fifteen, and that was more than three 
years ago. May I sit here ? Do you mind ?” 

“ I am honored that you should care to. Mr. Adams 
tells me that you are hoping to go abroad to study.” 

“ Yes, I want much to go, but my people don’t en- 
courage it. They are willing enough that I should 
146 


THE END OF A DAY 


147 

travel, but to go for study is another thing. Have you 
been over?” 

“ Yes. I returned only two or three months ago.” 

Then, that is why ” 

He looked up, smiling. “ Go on.” 

“ Why we have not seen you before, I was going to 
say; but I don’t know why I should have seen you, 
for I do not meet many artists. The Gardners are old 
friends, and they are my towers of strength. My father 
is pleased that I should win praise, and allows me to 
study, but my mother does not approve of it. So, you 


I see. Your friend is impossible. I don’t wonder 
that you despair of a likeness. One might approximate 
her color, but not her expression. Her face is too 
changeful.” 

“ I’m so glad to hear you say that. I don’t feel so 
disheartened. You are getting the general character, 
however, and that is what I always miss. I sometimes 
manage to get the expression of a single feature, but 
never of the whole face. That little turn of the neck is 
perfect. This is a lesson for me, Mr. Merrill,” she 
continued, watching the swift, quick touches. “ I 
wonder will I ever arrive, as the French say.” 

“If you have persistence, I should say there is no 
doubt of it. I liked what I saw of your work.” 

“ Sh ! don’t whisper that. I wouldn’t have these 
girls hear of the goat experience for the world. I 
ought to be taking an opportunity of sketching now, 
I suppose. Oh, you are not going to carry that any 
further? It is very suggestive. I never have senSe 
enough to stop when I ought. I like this. It is rhore 


HER VERY BEST 


148 

like Barbara than anything I have yet seen. You are 
not going to give it to me? Oh, no, I couldn’t take 

it — I ” She paused between protest and desire. It 

was a bold bit of work, as she had said, only a sugges- 
tion, but with the charming lines of Barbara’s delicate 
head and throat, and her exquisite coloring. '' I should 
feel so guilty to deprive you of it,” Isabel said at last, 
unable to resist the offer. “ You are too generous.” 

‘‘ I hope this is not the last opportunity that I shall 
have of sketching Miss Palmer, for she tells me that she 
is often at Mr. Adams’s studio, as well as at the Gard- 
ners’, and they are all my friends, as you perceive.” 

“ Yes. Then I will take it, with the understanding 
that if you ever wish it returned to you that you are to 
say so frankly. Is that agreed upon ?” 

^Mf you wish it so, certainly. You are free. Miss 
Palmer. Thank you very much. You are an excellent 
model, for you know how to pose.” 

“ I have sat too often for Isabel not to know how,” 
she said, smiling, as she began to gather up her traps 
preparatory to starting for the train. 

“ Oh, don’t let us hurry,” Isabel exclaimed. '' Now 
that the shadows are lengthening, it is the very witch- 
ing hour for work.” 

But the others are going,” Barbara returned, 
pausing undecidedly. 

“ Let them,” rejoined Isabel. “ These gem-like, per- 
fect days do not come too often, and I have had such 
a good time, out of sight of functions and frills, that 
I don’t want to end it. I know what I’ll do : I’ll per- 
suade the Gardners to stay till a later train. I know 
they will. If I point out that bewilderingly beautiful 


THE END OF A DAY 


149 


effect over there to Mr. Gardner, he will succumb in 
a moment.” And she moved gayly away, leaving Bar- 
bara with Mr. Merrill. 

He had likewise paused in the act of putting up his 
brushes. “ Miss Bromley shows both enthusiasm and 
talent, it seems to me,” he said to Barbara. 

“ Yes, she certainly does,” was the reply. “ I think 
if Isabel had been a poor girl she would have accom- 
plished more than she has done. She thinks that she 
despises her riches, but she cannot well do without her 
luxuries.” 

Mr. Merrill nodded. “ I can understand the condi- 
tion of mind, having gone through it myself.” 

“ I can’t,” Barbara returned ; “ having never had 
riches, and not many luxuries, except comparatively 
speaking. I am rich in comparison to many, I sup- 
pose.” 

“ Were you thinking of that saying of Carlyle’s : ‘ the 
real wealth of a man is the number of things he loves 
and blesses and by which he is loved and blessed’? or 
were you thinking of that other wise remark that a 
person is rich in proportion to the number of things he 
can do without ?” 

Barbara looked up brightly. “ I wasn’t thinking ex- 
actly of either of those. I was thinking of those who 
live from hand to mouth; whose life is a continual 
fight for actual necessities ; food enough to keep them* 
barely alive, and clothes enough to keep their bodies 

only fairly warm, and then ” She paused, for she 

was not used to speaking thus freely to strangers. 

'' Won’t you please go on ?” said Mr. Merrill. 

Barbara’s cheeks took on a little flush of embarrass- 


HER VERY BEST 


150 

ment, but she met such a frank, pleasant smile when 
she looked at her companion that she did go on. I 
was reading, the other day, in a little book that Mrs. 
Gardner gave me last Christmas, that ‘ money is not 
required to buy one necessary of the soul,' and I have 
so often thought of it since then. I would not give up 
my powers of appreciating this,”— she made a little 
movement to indicate their surroundings, — “ nor my 
love of music and poetry and books, for all the houses 
on Fifth Avenue. All the pictures in the exhibitions 
belong as much to me as to any one, for even if one 
should pay money for the possession of them, he could 
do no more than look at them, and the whole beautiful 
world is mine to enjoy.” 

Isabel had come up, and heard the last words. My 
sweet Content,” she said, we are going to stay, as 
you may have perceived by the settled look on Mr. 
Gardner’s face. What have you and Mr. Merrill been 
talking about?” 

The vanity of riches,” he answered, “ and Miss 
Palmer has shown me so plainly what I would lose 
by giving up this May evening that you cannot drive 
me away. I shall stay and sketch. I only needed a 
word of encouragement, I may add. Excuse me, I 
must have a word with Mrs. Gardner.” 

“ Oh, Barbara,” said Isabel, as the young man passed 
out of hearing, “ I verily believe you have been flirting 
with him. You demure little wretch, did you ask him 
to stay?” 

I did nothing of the kind,” said Barbara, blushing 
at the charge. “ I only said — I don’t know what he 
means — ^yes, I do ; I said I wouldn’t give up my power 


THE END OF A DAY 


151 

of appreciating this loveliness for all the houses on 
Fifth Avenue. Was that a hint?’' 

She looked so aggrieved that Isabel laughed heartily. 
“ No, dear Dame Demure, it wasn’t. He is a mean 
creature to suggest such a thing. Let’s flaunt him and 
turn our backs on him. I’ve a mind to go back, after 
all. Can’t we go hide somewhere while he is talking 
to Mrs. Gardner? Let’s run.” 

Where?” 

'' Over to that funny little dairy-house. We can get 
behind it.” 

“ And perhaps meet the goat.” 

“ No, I don’t believe we shall. I’ll risk it. Come, 
let’s hurry. We’ll walk down the road with the de- 
parting ones and then slip away. Come. Where are 
my traps ?” 

They joined Madge and Elsie, who rallied them upon 
their acquaintance and professed to being quite ag- 
grieved that they had not received an equal share of 
his attentions. “ You are just staying behind because 
he is,” they averred. 

“ Put it the other way, and you will be nearer right,” 
laughed Isabel. ‘‘ Good-by, girls ; we are going to see 
what there is in that dairy-house.” 

They found a comfortable spot in sight of an apple- 
tree in full bloom. It is impossible, but I am going 
to attempt it,” Isabel declared. “ Oh, Barbara, there 
is a broken branch. I wonder if we might have some 
of it. I shall ask that woman over there when I go 
for water.” She made her request, and received the 
desired permission to help herself ; then the two girls 


HER VERY BEST 


152 

settled to work, and scarcely spoke as their brushes 
were kept busy. 

At the end of half an hour, as Isabel was holding 
off her sketch at arm’s length, some one near them 
said, ‘‘ Pretty good, but don’t carry it any further.” 

Isabel dropped the sketch in her lap and looked up. 
“ Oh, it s you,” she said. “ How did you find us?” 

“ I saw you go over to speak to that woman over 
there, and watched you disappear behind this small 
building; as you did not emerge on the other side, 
there was but one conclusion to come to.” 

Of course. How stupid of me !” said Isabel, in an 
undertone. 

Mr. Merrill laughed. “ You can’t say that I did not 
respect your desire to be rid of a third person,” he said. 
“ I had designs upon that tree myself, but I found 
another. I am here now only as Mrs. Gardner’s hum- 
ble messenger. She thinks we should return, for it is 
getting damp, she declares. I will carry those, please, 
and will you join us at dinner? Mr. and Mrs. Gardner 
have been kind enough to say that they will dine with 
me at a queer little restaurant I know. It is down- 
town, in an out-of-the-way quarter, and is something 
of a Bohemian place, but they have the best spaghetti 
I ever ate, and it is a perfectly quiet, respectable estab- 
lishment.” 

I should be delighted to go, for one,” responded 
Isabel. “ You will accept Mr. Merrill’s invitation, won’t 
you, Barbara? I am expected at home, but ” 

“ You can send a telegram,” Mr. Merrill quickly in- 
terrupted. 

‘‘ So I can. That will do excellently. I don’t often 


THE END OF A DAY 


153 


get a chance to run away, but if I am with Mrs. Gard- 
ner, mamma will not say a word. She respects her 
connections too much ever to object when I say, ‘ I was 
with May Gardner, mamma !’ ” 

“ Your mother always regards me with such a con- 
templative look,” Barbara remarked. “ I am always 
conscious that she feels as if I were some strange bird 
which had flown in from a foreign land.” 

“ I have made great boasts of your ancestry,” Isabel 
said, laughing. “ You don’t know what tales I have 
told.” 

That accounts for it, then,” Barbara replied. I 
suppose she wonders how it is that the stock has so 
degenerated.” 

“ No mock modesty,” returned Isabel. “ That won’t 
do. My respected mamma would never acknowledge 
that there could be a contradiction to the saying, ' blood 
will tell.’ Alas, our day is over ! See, the sun has gone 
down.” 

“ We needn’t call it quite over,” Mr. Merrill re- 
sponded. “ I think we can still get something out of 
it.” And so they did, for a deliciously unique little 
dinner in an unstylish corner of New York was a 
decided novelty to both the girls, and especially so to 
Barbara, who had rarely made excursions into the out- 
side world. Her work at the art school, an occasional 
concert, a luncheon once in a while with Isabel, or an 
evening with the Gardners, made up the variety of her 
life. 

But after this May-day experience she felt her de- 
sire for more expansive influences to stir within her, 
and the next day when Isabel came in she welcomed 


154 


HER VERY BEST 


her with more effusion than usual. “ I was just wish- 
ing for you,” she said. “ I should like to do yesterday 
all over again, shouldn’t you ?” 

“ I am not sure,” was the reply. “ They say one 
should never repeat things like that, for they lose their 
flavor thereby.” 

“ Perhaps that is true ; but, anyhow, I feel like flap- 
ping my wings and flying away. I think I will have 
to go and see Aunt Thankful, for want of a greater 
change.” 

It is the New York influence,” returned Isabel. 

All New York moves in May, you know, and you 
have caught the fever. But, oh, Barbara, it would be 
great fun if we could go off somewhere together, you 
and I. Let’s go to Boston for a couple of weeks and 
see Sargent’s work in the Library.” 

Oh,” exclaimed Barbara, how I should love to 
do it!” 

Why can’t you?” 

Am I rolling in wealth ? It’s easy for you to talk 
in that flippant way, but I have to count my pennies.” 

Do let me count them for you.” 

Barbara shook her head. 

“ Please do. I should so love to stand treat.” 

“ No, ma’am, I will not. It wouldn’t be any fun. 
But, do you know, if we could do it very cheaply, I 
might manage it. I still have twenty dollars which I 
have been saving for some great occasion, and I might 
call this the opportune moment. Could we do it on 
twenty dollars?” 

'' Of course we could, if we were very economical. 
I’d love to be scrimpy and saving for once in my life. 


THE END OF A DAY 


155 

ril tell you what we will do, Barbara : I will promise 
not to spend a penny more than you do, and we will 
do it all in the very cheapest sort of a way. We can 
get a room and find our meals wherever we will, and 
we will stay as long as the money lasts. I am wild to 
do it. I never had such a chance, for none of the girls 
would be content to go in any but a very extravagant 
way.'' 

“ Will your mother consent, do you think ?" 

“ She will if papa does, and I can coax him into 
letting me go. Just now is a very favorable time, for 
papa and mamma want to go to Chicago." 

Aunt Thankful has some friends in Boston," said 
Barbara. I think she knows a highly respectable old 
lady who has a house somewhere on Beacon Hill near 
the State-House. I remember that Aunt Thankful 
went to see her not very long ago. It would be per- 
fectly safe for us to go there. I don't believe her prices 
would be very high." 

The very thing. That will settle matters beauti- 
fully. It was the only point about which I felt dubious. 
It wouldn't be right for two girls to go to a perfectly 
strange house, you know. We will consider it a settled 
thing, then, shall we? When can you go? Next week?" 

Yes, I think so. I'll go out and see Aunt Thank- 
ful this very afternoon, and get her friend's address ; 
then we can write and engage our room." 

Isn't it a fine plan ? I am so wildly excited I don't 
know what to do. It will be such a lark. Now let us 
talk about Mr. Merrill." 

Barbara laughed. Isabel, I believe you are really 


HER VERY BEST 


156 

smitten with that young man. How long will this con- 
dition of mind last?’^ 

“ Till I see him again, probably. My fancies usually 
do last just about that long, but it is fun to imagine 
each time that this is serious.” And they fell to dis- 
cussing this latest acquisition to their list of acquaint- 
ances. 


CHAPTER III 


TO BOSTON 

Two excited girls they were who established them- 
selves on one of the Sound steamers one evening in 
May. Isabel had decided that one trunk would be suffi- 
cient for their needs, and had insisted that Barbara 
would allow her to bear the expense of that. Papa 
always pays such things, anyhow,^’ she said, so just 
let us cut that much off and begin with the tickets for 
the first dip into the twenty dollars,” and Barbara had 
yielded the point. The question of a state-room was 
the next one. Isabel was inclined to insist upon the 
most expensive. ‘‘We must be comfortable,” she said. 

“ So we must,” Barbara replied, “ but I don’t see why 
a state-room for which we pay a dollar should not be 
just as comfortable as one for twice that money. It 
isn’t hot weather, and I suppose the berths are about 
the same. I see already, Isabel, that I shall have to 
curb your extravagance at the outset.” And Isabel 
gave up to her. 

“ Don’t you feel as if we were on a voyage of dis- 
covery ?” she said. “ I never was so free in all my life. 
I have wanted always to do some such thing, and never 
met a girl with grit enough to join me. Oh, Barbara, 
you are a joy!” 

Barbara smiled. She was used to such exuberant ex- 

157 


HER VERY BEST 


158 

pressions in Isabel’s moments of excitement, and she 
went on calmly unpacking her necessary articles for 
the night, as if travelling were no new thing to her. 
“ I shall take the upper berth, unless you prefer it, 
Isabel,” she decided, for if I were to fall out upon 
you, it would not be quite so bad as if you were to fall 
out upon me, for I am so much the smaller of the two.” 
And upon this they agreed. 

The next morning found them established in a pleas- 
ant third-story room in an old-fashioned house within 
a stone’s throw of the State-House. “ It is fine,” de- 
clared Barbara, looking around her to take in the vari- 
ous appointments. See that nice big table, and such 
a deep closet. Isn’t Mrs. Abbott the very primmest, 
neatest old lady you ever saw?” 

“ Bostonian to the backbone,” Isabel replied. 
“ Come, let’s hurry and get settled, so we can start 
forth. I am so anxious to get to the Library and 
hear what you have to say about it.” 

“ We’ll have to ask Mrs. Abbott about a place where 
we can get good meals, for we had such an early break- 
fast that we shall want something before we start for 
the Library.” This proved an easy task in one way, 
for there were boarding-houses innumerable. 

“ The only trouble is, which to choose,” said Isabel. 
'' It will be cheaper to get one of those meal tickets, I 
suppose, but then we should feel obliged to use that up 
and we might select the least satisfactory place.” 

“ We’ll have to trust to luck. None of them are so 
very bad, Mrs. Abbott says, so we’ll shut our eyes and 
go it blind, as Roger would say.” This they concluded 
to do, but after a trial of the boarding-house which 


TO BOSTON 


159 

they selected, they felt that they might have chosen 
more wisely. 

Everything is very good but the coffee,’' Isabel 
complained. “ I positively cannot drink the stuff they 
serve. It fairly makes me ill.” The end of the after- 
noon had brought them home hungry and tired, and 
the anticipation of the next meal did not bring Isabel 
much comfort. 

“ I’ll tell you what we can do,” Barbara answered ; 
“ we can use up the ticket we bought for all our meals 
but breakfast, and that we can get in our room. Mrs. 
Abbott said we might use the gas to boil water over. 
I asked, and we can make a cup of coffee any time we 
want to. Let’s get some cheap cups and do that.” 

So we will,” returned Isabel, with a return of ani- 
mation. “ I was just about to give up the cheap idea 
and back out, Barbara, but you’ve saved me. I’ll not 
desert you if I can have my coffee. I am so tired after 
our tramp, but I believe I would be willing to start out 
again for the sake of a good cup of coffee. Are you 
too tired to go with me?” 

'' You poor slave to habit,” returned Barbara, play- 
fully. No, I am not very tired. I was too spiritually 
uplifted by what I saw to be physically exhausted. I 
tell you what, Isabel : you stay here and I’ll go get the 
necessaries. It is Saturday evening, and all the shops 
will be open, I imagine. We won’t go out to supper, 
but will have a cosey time by ourselves. No, no, don’t 
protest. I just dote on doing such things.” 

You will get lost.” 

No, I will not. I am perfectly capable of finding 
my way; besides, they say that one has only to walk 


i6o 


HER VERY BEST 


straight ahead in Boston and he will eventually come 
back to the place from which he started. You do look 
quite worn out. Lie down there on the lounge, and I 
will be back in a jiffy.” 

“ It is so mean to let you go alone,” said Isabel, in 
weak protest, “ but ” 

“ You are tired, and I am not. I am a much better 
walker than you. Being poor has its advantages, you 
see, for you ride so often that you tire easily when it 
comes to walking, while I am used to tramping about. 
We shouldn’t have attempted so much the first day. 
I know you have a headache ; I can tell by your eyes.” 
She had her way, and left Isabel that she might make 
her discoveries alone. 

In about half an hour she returned triumphant. Isa- 
bel started up from the lounge as she entered the room. 
“ It is very fortunate that you brought this net bag,” 
said Barbara, as she held up a twine bag, showing many 
packages. '' What do you suppose I have bought at a 
small outlay? If we could get all our own meals we 
could make our money last indefinitely. Take care! 
that is a dish of Boston baked beans. They are fine, 
I know. I found them at the funniest little bakery. 
I had to go into the bake-house to get them. There 
was a huge pot of beans just out of the oven, and they 
ladled these out of it. That solid package is a loaf of 
bread, and here is a little jar of cream, and that is the 
little coffee-pot; the butter is inside; I put it there 
for safe-keeping. That flat thing is a pie.” 

“You don’t mean to say that you climbed the hill 
with all those things!” exclaimed Isabel, in astonish- 
ment. 


TO BOSTON 


l6l 


“ No, not with all. I went to the farthest-off place 
first and bought the coffee, the cream, and those things ; 
the bake-shop supplies I got just around the corner. 
Mrs. Abbott will lend us cups and saucers and a knife. 
Fortunately, we brought two spoons and some sugar. 
Now we’ll have coffee as is coffee.” 

“ Isn’t this a true Bohemian meal ?” said Isabel, re- 
garding the table with satisfaction. I am half 
starved, Barbara; aren’t you?” 

Yes, I believe I am. Will you have your coffee 
with the supper, old-fashioned style, or are you so 
wedded to the ways of the Philistines that your even- 
ing meal must be dinner with a demi-tasse of coffee 
after?” 

“ Give it to me at once. I so yearn for it that I will 
stand on no kind of ceremony. Oh, how good it smells ! 
Nectar for the gods couldn’t compare with it. Where 
did you get that cream ? Barbara, you are a marvel of 
a caterer.” 

I’ve served my apprenticeship. This is a most con- 
venient neighborhood, and I had no trouble in getting 
supplies. Boston boarding-house coffee may be poor, 
but there is certainly a fine quality to be had in the 
shops. Spread your bread and let me have the knife. 
We can have some eggs and coffee and Boston brown 
bread for breakfast, and you needn’t go out till it is 
time to start for church.” 

“ Shade of John Hancock, but these beans are good !” 
exclaimed Isabel. “ Is it the subtle influence of the 
place, — for I believe this house stands on what was 
once a part of John Hancock’s property, — or is it that 
I am so starved?” 


U 


HER VERY BEST 


162 

“ I think it is a little of both/’ Barbara answered, 
taking a spoonful of beans upon her wooden plate. “ I 
don’t think I’d like this as a steady thing, but for a 
change it’s mighty good.” 

“ We’ll go to the new Old South to-morrow, shall 
we?” asked Isabel. 

“Yes, and to Trinity, where Phillips Brooks was 
rector. We can walk there right across the Common.” 

“ I don’t see how you know all that so well. Every 
one says Boston is such a puzzling place to find one’s 
way about in, and you have never been here before.” 

“ No, but I have spent hours studying that map of 
yours in the guide-book, and I think I know pretty 
well about the directions from this point.” 

“ And Monday, where shall we go ?” 

“To Cambridge. I want to see Harvard College ; 
but oh, dear ! there is so much I want to see.” 

“ Well, we don’t have to do it all at once, you know. 
Where is that guide-book? We’ll consult that and plan 
out our outings. We must go to Salem and Marble- 
head and Gloucester. They are such odd, quaint old 
places, you will like to see them.” 

“ I think we would best take every other day for the 
long trips and the between ones for Boston proper, and 
then we will not get so tired out.” 

“ Wise girl. You have such a deal of judgment for 
so small a body, Barbara. Now, I just fly ahead and 
do whatever comes first without thinking of the conse- 
quences. Where did you learn to be so wise?” 

“ I suppose,” she returned, thoughtfully, “ from hav- 
ing to depend so much upon myself. You know grand- 
father is so absent-minded, and I lost my mother when 


TO BOSTON 


163 

I was very young, and so I have had to be self-reliant. 
And then there are Roger and Helen; I have always 
had them on my mind.” 

Isabel leaned over and kissed her, with a sudden 
welling up of sympathy. “ I wish I had a big brother, 
Barbara,” she said. “ Fd love to have you for a sister.” 

Barbara laughed. “ What a delightful possibility it 
would suggest, and how unkind of you not to have a 
brother ! Can’t you adopt one ?” 

Isabel shook her head. “ It wouldn’t do. I’ll have 
to arrange something else.” 

And, of course. I’ll meekly do your bidding, and 
be led like a lamb to the sacrifice. No, Miss Isabel, 
I’m not going to marry. I’ve too much else to do in 
life.” 

So I say,” returned Isabel ; but one never knows. 
I find so many who insist that they are going to do this 
or that, and, after all, turn around and do exactly the 
opposite; so I just drift along. It is much the easiest 
way. What shall it be for Monday? Here we sit, 
guide-book neglected, while we moon away about such 
foolish things as men and marriage.” 

My, how superior ! It is the Boston influence. 
Don’t take to lecturing, Isabel, whatever you do. You’d 
look rather well upon the platform, but I’d hate to see 
you there. Now let us settle about Monday. Shall 
it be Salem ? I think so ; and Tuesday we’ll take Cam- 
bridge. Now let’s go to bed.” 

Monday morning found them ready for the ride to 
Salem, and by ten o’clock they were wandering about 
the sleepy old town, and finally brought up at the Essex 
Institute. '' It is a perfect treasure-trove of things 


HER VERY BEST 


164 

quaint and antique/' said Isabel, lingering over the 
dingy reminders of a by-gone period. “ I love these 
queer skillets and bellows and kettles; don’t you?” 

“ I do, indeed,” was the response, spoken in so deep 
a tone that Isabel turned suddenly in surprise, and 
found that Barbara had moved on and that the reply 
to her question was given by Lawrence Merrill. 

Well !” she exclaimed. '' Of all things ! How came 
you to be here ?” 

“ I have some illustrating to do for a publisher in 
Boston, and came on to Salem to look up some ma- 
terial I want. I am delighted to have run across you. 
Is Miss Palmer with you?” 

“ Yes ; she is over there looking at those funny old 
bonnets. We are staying in Boston, but are here for 
the day. Isn’t it a drowsy old town ? We got our lunch 
at that place where there is a dear old man in a skull- 
cap and an old lady with such white hair. We are 
seeing how cheaply we can do this trip, and were rec- 
ommended to go there.” 

“ Oh, yes, I know the place. I have just come from 
there. I spent the morning here taking notes, and came 
back to verify something I didn’t have quite clearly 
set down. What shall you do this afternoon ?” 

We’ll find enough here to occupy us. We want to 
see the House of the Seven Gables and the old Witch 
House.” 

That will not take you half an hour ; then what ?” 

“ I don’t know. Barbara, here is Mr. Merrill, and 
he wants to know what we are going to do this after- 
noon.” 

“ Do? We’re going to do Salem.” 


TO BOSTON 165 

Mr. Merrill laughed. “ How far are you in the pro- 
cess ?” 

“ I don’t know. I could spend days in this place, 
myself. We are likely to be here for a couple of hours, 
I should think.” 

“ Then, may I come here for you at — let me see — at 
four o’clock?” 

Barbara looked at Isabel. She did not like this in- 
terruption to the day’s plans, but Isabel responded gra- 
ciously, “ Certainly. Are you going to offer us some 
surprise in the way of a curious sight that we have 
overlooked ?” 

‘‘ No ; but I thought it might be more comfortable 
if you could return to Boston under my escort. There 
is such a rush and scramble for the cars in the evening, 
and a man is sometimes of use on such occasions.” 

The girls laughed. He penetrates our scorn of the 
sex,” said Barbara. “ We are in Massachusetts, Mr. 
Merrill, and are imbibing all sorts of isms. Isabel is 
thinking of lecturing at the next woman’s rights con- 
vention, and I am not sure yet whether I shall join her 
or not.” 

“ No matter what you do, so long as I may be al- 
lowed, like Mary’s little lamb, to ‘ hoppee ’long too,’ 
as the Chinaman said. Are you going to be too tired 
to go somewhere this evening?” 

“ I shall be,” returned Barbara, promptly. 

“ And we do not feel that we can call upon Mrs. 
Abbott to chaperon us,” said Isabel, sedately. 

Mr. Merrill looked a little taken aback. I forgot 
we were not in Bohemia,” he said. “ You will pardon 
me, I hope, and let me call upon you. Would it be be- 


i66 


HER VERY BEST 


yond the bounds of decorum if I were to ask you to 
visit some of the studios with me? I have a number 
of artist friends here. Some of them are very jolly 
fellows, and do some very good work.’' 

Even Barbara could not withstand this. “We should 
love to go, and Don’t you think we might, Isa- 

bel?” 

“ Ye-es, I think so,” she answered. “ To-morrow 
afternoon we might, perhaps.” 

“ Then sh^ll we call it settled ?” Mr. Merrill asked. 
“Auf wiedersehn! I will be back here by four, and 
we’ll go see the Witch House.” 

“ He didn’t ask to call in New York,” remarked Isa- 
bel, as he disappeared. “ I wonder why ; and I wonder 
if it is right to allow it now.” 

“ I believe he was afraid of your Fifth Avenue sur- 
roundings,” returned Barbara. “ I think the confes- 
sion that we were doing this on a cheap scale was what 
appealed to him. He didn’t dare venture within the 
tents of the Philistines in New York. As for allowing 
him to call on us here, I should think it would be quite 
proper, for we are really under Mrs. Abbott’s protec- 
tion, since she is a friend of Aunt Thankful’s and we 
know all about her and she knows all about us.” 

“ Well, he is very nice,” said Isabel, quite seriously, 
“ but I don’t believe you are glad we met him. You 
didn’t look so.” 

“ I am not glad. I think it is too bad to have a man 
come interfering with our nice sociable plans. You 
always have a lot of men tagging after you at home 
wherever you go, and here I thought we should be rid 
of them.” 


TO BOSTON i6y 

“ Such men ! Perfectly inane creatures that I de- 
spise. This one is different.” 

And that is why you like him? Well, my dear, you 
may make yourself as charming as you please. I’ll not 
try to.” 

“ Now, Barbara, you are cross.” 

“ Yes, I am. I hope he isn’t going to stop here all 
the time that we are here. Did he say when he was 
going back?” 

“No; but you’ll like to see the studios, won’t you?” 

“ Yes, I’ll like that, but I don’t care how soon he goes 
after he has taken us to them.” 

“ I thought you liked artists.” 

“ I do, in their proper place ; but when they come 
upsetting all my pleasant prospects I don’t like them. 
I wish he wasn’t going back with us.” She looked 
really as if she had borrowed Roger’s cloudy face, and 
Isabel was quite distressed. 

“ Oh, well, we needn’t go to-morrow,” she said ; 
“ but after his being so kind and polite, I don’t think 
it would be exactly nice of us to be ofiBsh.” 

Barbara made a tour of the room and then came back 
to where Isabel was looking at some pieces of old silver- 
ware. The younger girl smiled up at her friend. 
“ Don’t let me spoil our good time by being cross, 
Isabel,” she said. “ I was mean and hateful. After 
all, what difference can an hour or so make, when we 
have the whole twenty-four? I believe I was jealous, 
and that is all. I ought to love you too much to want 
to rob you of any pleasure, and I’ll be as good as pie, 
I promise you.” 

“You are a dear thing, Barbara,” returned Isabel. 


i68 


HER VERY BEST 


“ I am so glad you are not going to be grumpy. You 
hardly ever are, you know. Were you jealous, dear? 
There is not a man living who could make me love you 
less, or who could ever be as companionable as you 
are;*' which, in a measure, was true, yet Barbara an- 
swered, gravely, — 

One does not always love more or less, but with a 
difference;” which was a truer statement of the case 
than Isabel's. 


CHAPTER IV 


A CHANCE MEETING 

Mr. Merrill was on hand all too promptly for 
Barbara’s convenience. She was still shy of strangers, 
and rather dreaded the visit to the studio of Mr. Mer- 
rill’s friend. Isabel, however, was in her element, 
and donned her prettiest toilet, so that Barbara de- 
clared herself quite cast in the shade. 

“If I had your coloring I shouldn’t care what I 
wore,” Isabel retorted. “ I look like a nobody in plain 
clothes; so tacky and ordinary. As mamma says, I 
‘ take dress,’ while you look best in quiet attire. Every 
one will look at your lovely hair and eyes, and I will 
be nowhere.” But at no time was Isabel nowhere. 
She was too full of life, too much at home in a crowd, 
to practise self-repression, and she was soon the centre 
of a lively group, while Barbara was satisfied to sit 
in a corner and look over some sketches with Mr. Mer- 
rill. To be sure, Isabel, more than once, cast an in- 
terested glance in her direction, but she seemed so 
ready with repartee and so occupied with her new 
friends, that Barbara did not venture to join her till 
the time came for them to go. Isabel spoke little to 
her on the way home; she gave her attention strictly 
to Mr. Merrill, and Barbara withdrew into her shell, 
and did not attempt to take part in the conversation. 

“ If I were only bright and witty like Isabel,” she 
thought, “ I should so enjoy going about, but some 
persons have the effect of shutting me lip like a clam, 

169 


HER VERY BEST 


170 

and I am uncomfortable and conscious. I am so be- 
fore some of these Boston women.’’ She was busily 
thinking over her shortcomings, and had unconsciously 
dropped behind the other two. Presently she was 
startled by hearing some one at her side say, “Are 
you in such a brown study that you will not speak to 
old friends. Miss Barbara ? I have been walking along- 
side of you for five minutes, and you have not given 
me a glance.” 

“ Why, Mr. Vandermeer, who in the world would 
have thought of seeing you here? Did you know that 
we were in Boston?” 

“ Yes, but I did not know that I should see you 
here. I found the family all away when I returned 
to New York, and then I called upon your grandfather, 
who told me of your flight with Isabel. How are you 
enjoying Boston?” 

“ Very much. Yes, very much. I shouldn’t care to 
live here, perhaps, but it is a very interesting place 
to visit, and, besides, you know I have travelled so 
little that I am alive with curiosity. It has the charm 
of novelty.” 

“Yes, it would have that. An uneventful life has 
its compensations. It is a poor plan to outlive one’s 
enthusiasms.” 

Barbara smiled. “ I am not likely ever to do that. 
Now, when I want very much to go anywhere, I always 
comfort myself with the thought. That’s one more 
pleasant thing to anticipate.” 

He gave her an answering smile. “ That is a very 
fine philosophy. I wish I had practised it earlier. I 
get very tired of places, but, if I remain long in one, 


A CHANCE MEETING 


171 

a restless spirit takes possession of me, and off I go 
again.” 

Barbara looked thoughtful. “ Perhaps if you had 
a home, you would not get restless,” she said, after a 
pause. “ I should think life in a hotel would be very 
unsatisfactory. Pd get so very tired of myself if I 
lived alone in that way.” 

“ So you would,” he said, eagerly. “ That is just 
how it is. There, Isabel has just come to a realizing 
sense that you are missing. See how surprised she 
looks.” They came up laughing, while the two ahead 
waited for them. 

“ Of all things ! Where did you drop from. Uncle 
Henry?” Isabel exclaimed. “ How long have you been 
tagging on behind us with Barbara?” 

For ten minutes, perhaps, and I came up on the 
Sound steamer last night.” 

Isabel presented him to Mr. Merrill, and they con- 
tinued their walk through the Common. “ I looked 
you up,” Mr. Vandermeer told Barbara, but was told 
you had gone out. You thought you must be on his- 
toric ground, I suppose. You are under the very 
shadow of the State-House.” 

“ Yes, we thought it would be a convenient neigh- 
borhood, and it is a friend of my aunt’s with whom we 
are staying.” 

Mr. Vandermeer nodded. “ I didn’t come to spy on 
you, but I’d like to try to help you have a good time.” 

Barbara gave a little half-smile. 

“ Why do you look so amused ?” 

“ Because it is so funny. We ran off to have a trip 


172 


HER VERY BEST 


all to ourselves, and you are the second person who 
has come upon us.” 

And interrupted your good time ?” 

No, I wasn’t going to be so impolite as to say that, 
but it does seem funny.” 

“ I will leave you this minute, if you say so, and, 
moreover, I will drag Mr. Merrill with me. Who is 
he, by the way ? A Boston acquaintance ?” 

No, that is the funny part of it. We met him a 
couple of weeks ago in New York. He is a friend of 
the Gardners.” 

“ Then it is assumed that he is safe. I don’t think 
that Isabel looks as if she much objected to being in- 
terrupted.” 

“ No, she doesn’t, and that is what makes me out of 
sorts. She rather enjoys him, and — and ” 

“ You are a companionless third? I see. Well, then, 
if Mr. Merrill is inevitable, you, perhaps, will be will- 
ing to take me into the party, and you and I can hunt 
together. We can keep a severe eye upon the other 
couple, and have our own good time into the bargain.” 

“ Uncle Henry, I’m rather glad you have come,” 
came an interruption from Isabel. “ How long are you 
going to stay?” 

‘‘ As long as I find a field for my special talents. 
Have you anything for me to do? I believe you gen- 
erally find a way to make me useful.” 

“ Yes, I have something in mind. I’ll tell you later. 
Are you going to take us somewhere to dinner? We 
have been living on baked beans and brown bread.” 

“ Oh, Isabel,” protested Barbara. 


A CHANCE MEETING 


173 

“ Well, not altogether, but we did make two meals 
of them. Where are you staying, Uncle Henry?” 

“ At the Parker House. Yes, I shall be delighted 
to have you join me at dinner. Mr. Merrill, I hope, 
will not desert us.” 

Isabel turned a questioning look upon the young 
man. You will not desert us, Mr. Merrill ?” 

“ Not if I can add to the pleasure of the party. For 
myself, the prospect of a lonely dinner is not a very 
happy one, and I don’t need a great deal of encourage- 
ment. You may have observed a like tendency in me 
before.” 

“ Then it is settled. We will all go with you, thank 
you. Uncle Henry, and then we can talk over that other 
matter.” 

This is certainly an improvement on our boarding- 
place,” Barbara said an hour later. 

Uncle Henry always does know just what to 
order,” returned Isabel. “ That is one reason why I 
like to go out with him; I know everything will be 
just as it should. Please stay till Friday, Uncle Henry. 
We are invited to a sort of a — what is it, Mr. Mer- 
rill?” 

“ A studio frolic ; nameless, I suppose. Mr. Hunt 
is going abroad next week, and his friends are invited 
to his studio for a farewell evening. I believe they 
are to go in costume, — at least the ladies are,— in order 
to add to the effect. The studio is a very attractive 
one, and one is always sure of having a good time 
there. Miss Bromley questioned the propriety of 
going without some one of her family or an older lady, 
so you have appeared just in time.” 


174 


HER VERY BEST 


You will go, won’t you, Uncle Henry ?” 

“ Why, yes, I don’t object. I know Hunt. Met 
him in Paris a couple of years ago.” 

“ Uncle Henry knows everybody,” Isabel told Mr. 
Merrill; and the matter was arranged to every one’s 
satisfaction. 

“ I don’t think our trip has turned out a bit as we 
expected it would,” complained Barbara to Isabel, that 
evening when they had reached their room. 

“ Well, it doesn’t matter, so long as we have a good 
time, does it?” 

No-o, but ” 

Aren’t you having a good time ?” 

Oh, yes, but not the kind of a time we meant to 

have, nor just the kind of a time that I ” She 

stopped, for she would not obtrude her preferences. 

“ I know, dear,” said Isabel, taking her friend’s face 
between her hands ; “ but, Barbara, I’m having such 
a delicious time. I am, dear. I never had such a free 
foot, as my old nurse used to say, and it was getting 
to be very depressing to go to that boarding-house for 
all our meals.” 

“ But,” said Barbara, in consternation, “ are we 
** going to do anything different? We can’t.” 

Oh, yes, we can. Uncle Henry will always take 
us to dinner. He is really very nice, Barbara, and not 
so dreadfully old. I don’t think he is much over 
thirty.” 

That is rather old,” said Barbara, from the stand- 
point of nineteen. 

“ He is the youngest of a family of six,” said Isabel, 


A CHANCE MEETING 


175 


and mamma is the eldest. At all events, he is a dear 
fellow, and he will see that we have a lovely time.” 

But you see, he isn’t my uncle.” 

'' No, but he likes you very much. He hardly ever 
takes the trouble to talk to a girl as much as I have 
seen him talk to you.” 

He knew my father, you know.” 

To be sure he did. I always forget that. Then 
that is reason enough for you to feel perfectly willing 
to let him include you in the things he does for me 
while we are here. You are the daughter of his friend, 
and that is probably the way he feels about it.” 

Barbara was satisfied, and yielded to the situation. 

But after their light was out and only the moon- 
light was shining in their room, Isabel said, “ Mr. Mer- 
rill likes you, too, Barbara, much better than he does 
me.” 

'' What utter nonsense !” returned Barbara, sleepily. 

No, it isn’t. He talked to you all the time at the 
studio.” 

Because there was no one else to talk to me,” re- 
turned Barbara, rousing. “ I am sure you were chat- 
tering away as fast as could be, and needed no one to 
entertain you. I’m such a mouse in company.” 

'' So you are, dear. What did he talk about ?” 

‘‘ Oh, I don’t know exactly. Pictures, and — Miss 
Bromley.” 

'' Did he really ?” 

Yes.” 

Isabel gave her a mighty hug. '' Bless you, Bar- 
bara ! I’ll devise you the loveliest costume for Friday 
night. I’ve thought it all out.” 


176 


HER VERY BEST 


“ Oh, I can’t go in costume. I can’t buy anything 
for one, you know.” 

Only a few yards of cheese-cloth, mousie dear, for 
a Greek dress. You’ll look so dear in it, with your 
pretty white throat and arms. I couldn’t wear one at 
all, for I’d look like such a guy, so I will send home 
for my Dutch dress, the one with the long sleeves, and 
wear that so as not to show my skinny arms. The 
cheese-cloth will cost very little, and we’ll save on the 
dinners, you know.” 

Barbara laughed. '' All right. I’ll get the cheese- 
cloth.” 

‘‘ White, creamy white, it must be, and with your 
hair done up as I know how to do it, you’ll be the belle 
of the evening. See if you are not. Now let us go 
to sleep, so as to be ready for Plymouth Rock to- 
morrow.” 

The cheese-cloth costume certainly was a success, 
as every one declared, and Barbara hardly knew her- 
self, so great was the enthusiasm over her appearance. 
“ Stunning? I should say so,” was Mr. Merrill’s com- 
ment. Miss Palmer, I must have a sitting in this 
dress when we get back to New York. Did you ever 
see anything finer than that effect. Hunt ? Here, Miss 
Palmer, just lean against this piece of drapery. 
Doesn’t that bring out the flesh tints?” And so on, 
till Barbara declared she could stand it no longer, and 
begged Mr. Vandermeer to rescue her from these 
clamorous artists. 

But you are an artist yourself,” he said, as he 
piloted her to a quiet corner. 


A CHANCE MEETING 


177 

“ Hardly one yet. At all events, I like to be the 
observer and not the observed.” 

He looked at her with the sudden brightening of 
his face which she had before noticed. You are not 
like other girls,” he remarked. 

“ No, I am painfully aware of it. I never know how 
to keep the ball of conversation rolling, and say those 
witty things which come so easily to Isabel. I enjoy 
looking on.” 

“ But you observe very closely. I have noticed that, 
and in a quiet hour you would not be silent.” 

“No, I can talk to one person fast enough some- 
times. I am always quietest in a crowd. I am glad 
they like the dress, for Isabel is so pleased that they 
do, but I feel so silly to be made to pose for a beauty 
when it is simply Isabel’s taste in making the dress 
hang so well. Don’t let’s talk about me any more. 
Tell me about some of the wonderful places you have 
seen. You promised once to tell me of your trip to 
Hawaii.” 

“ Hark ! some one is going to sing. We will be 
quiet and listen. Hawaii can wait.” 

Barbara leaned back against the cushions of the 
divan on which they were sitting, and listened, her 
eyes upon the scene before her. The studio with its 
rich furnishings made a proper setting for the com- 
pany in their picturesque dresses, and the little French 
song, which a pure sweet tenor voice was singing, 
seemed just the thing for the time and place. Then 
there arose the strong full tones of a ’cello, and Bar- 
bara leaned forward. Suddenly she seemed to hear 
her grandfather practising his favorite music ; she saw 
12 


HER VERY BEST 


178 

the blue Potomac, and smelled the locust-blossoms 
which came in May time in her old home in Maryland. 
There was a tender, half-sad expression upon her face, 
and her lips took a sorrowful curve. 

Mr. Vandermeer, watching her, thought, “ It is a 
good little face. There is a beautiful soul behind it.” 
And he, too, sighed as the music ceased. 

Barbara turned to him instantly. “ Does it make 
you sad, too ?” she whispered, softly. “ It reminds 
me of my grandfather and of my old home. Dear 
grandfather, I hope he does not miss me. He has 
Helen and Boggie, to be sure. Roger is so much to 
him now, and I am so glad.” 

“ It makes me sad, yes, a little. I think a good com- 
position of any sort brings one face to face with one’s 
true self, and makes him realize his shortcomings. I 
am a useless sort of a creature.”- 

“ Are you ?” The childlike eyes .were reproachful, 
he thought. “ Why need you be?” 

“ I don’t know. Simply because I’ve no impulse to 
make me different, I suppose.” 

“ And yet there is so much to do in this world,” 
said Barbara, thoughtfully. 

“Is there? What?” 

“ Oh, so much. One could study, and then help 
others who have no way of learning ; and there are so 
many, many ways of doing good. There are numbers 
of persons who have no time to help make the world 
better, but who are very eager to do their part, and 
because they have to earn their bread and butter they 
can only do a very little ; they have so little time from 
their necessary labor. I’ve often thought ” 


A CHANCE MEETING 


179 


Please go on/’ he said, in a low tone. 

“ Pve often thought, if I were very rich, that I would 
give my time to looking after those things that need 
attention : the charities ; the free kindergartens ; the 
institutions like hospitals. Think how very much good 
one could do in a single day at a hospital where such 
weary, weary hours must be spent by those who can 
only lie still and suffer. And then there are one’s own 
invalid friends. One always knows some who need a 
visit, — a little of the outside world brought to them. 
We are always so ready to do things for our well 
friends, who perhaps don’t need entertaining, and we 
forget the sick and the lonely ones. There is Mr. 
Merrill bringing me an ice, and it is high time that 
something came to stop my talking. Have I not carried 
out your opinion of me ? I certainly must have talked 
one person to death.” 

To life, it is more likely. I needed it, and I thank 
you.” 

“ What did you find to say to Uncle Henry ? He 
was listening with all his ears,” said Isabel to her that 
night. Never tell me again that you can’t talk.” 

Barbara looked confused. “ I hadn’t any business 
to lecture Tiim,” she said. “ I am afraid I was very dis- 
respectful to say what I did to a man so much older 
than I.” 

“ Were you lecturing him ? I cannot imagine such 
a thing.” 

“ Why, yes, I was. I told him what I would do if 
I were a rich man.” 

Isabel looked vastly amused. “You must tell me 


i8o 


HER VERY BEST 


some time. Did you enjoy the evening? You ought 
to have; you were the admiration of every one. I 
knew you would be. Don’t be too lovely, Barbara.” 

“ Why what do you mean ?” 

But Isabel would not make any explanation. 


CHAPTER V 


AT AUNT thankful's 

The week which followed was full of pleasant ex- 
cursions in and around Boston, and Barbara, for the 
first time in her life, experienced the comfort afforded 
by the escort of a thoughtful, well-informed man of 
the world, for Mr. Vandermeer made her his especial 
charge, and her eager mind absorbed much knowl- 
edge of things literary and historical. Mr. Merrill had 
a boyish love of fun, and Mr. Vandermeer possessed 
a quiet sense of humor, so that theirs was not a solemn 
company by any means. 

“ I never had such a lovely time in all my life," 
sighed Isabel, on the day of their departure for home. 
'' When I have gone anywhere with mamma and papa, 
it has always been so formal and uninteresting. 
Mamma never cares for the things that please me, and 
it is so stupid dragging around the shops, or spending 
one’s time perched up in a hotel listening to small 
talk. Uncle Henry has sometimes gone away with us 
in the summer, but I never knew he could be so jolly 
and unconventional. It is as if he had never shown 
his true self before. I just dread to go back home, 
and yet I am ashamed to say so." 

Suppose your mother and father are still in Chi- 
cago, what will you do at home alone?" 

'' Oh, Uncle Henry will be there, and the servants 
are all in force, but — you couldn’t come and stay with 
me, could vou?" 

i8i 


HER VERY BEST 


182 

Barbara hesitated. “ I don’t know. I hardly think 
so. Helen is at Aunt Thankful’s, and I promised to 
go there as soon as I should get back. It is such a 
nice old place to be in. Aunt Thankful is queer, but 
she is as good as gold, and one doesn’t mind her little 
peculiarities after one is used to them. I wish you 
would come there, Isabel. She likes you, and we could 
have such fine times sketching together.” 

I’d love it,” Isabel exclaimed, enthusiastically, 
“ but I should not like to go without a special invita- 
tion from Miss Ray. I wish papa and mamma would 
decide to take a longer trip. I believe they would go 
to the Yellowstone if I could be satisfactorily provided 
for. Mamma doesn’t care to go, but papa has wanted 
to for ever so long, and mamma won’t leave him, now 
they are started. Perhaps your Aunt Thankful would 
let me board with her. Would she, do you think?” 

Barbara shook her head. “ No, she wouldn’t do 
that, I am sure. I think, perhaps, that I can manage 
it some other way.” 

This she succeeded in doing, for Aunt Thankful 
was the proudest sort of a body, and could not bear 
the idea that any one belonging to her should be under 
obligations to comparative strangers, and therefore, 
when Barbara gave a glowing account of her good 
times, and told how Mr. Vandermeer had contributed 
to her pleasure. Aunt Thankful’s face took on a sharply 
meditative expression. 

“ They have all been very good to me,” Barbara 
went on to say, and have entertained me a great deal. 
I wish I could return it somehow. I did make a pretty 
good study of Isabel for Mr. Bromley, and he was 


AT AUNT THANKFUUS 183 

greatly pleased, but I can’t do anything further. If 
I had a home of my own, now ” 

“ What would you do ?” asked Aunt Thankful, 
quickly. 

“ I’d invite Isabel to come to me during the time her 
parents are away.” 

“ Humph ! she’d want more than you could do for 
her : hot water lugged to her room half a dozen times 
a day; her breakfast in bed, and a dozen servants to 
wait on her; besides late dinners with entrees and fal- 
lals that you couldn’t supply.” 

“ Indeed, then. Aunt Thankful, she would not. Isa- 
bel has all sorts of luxuries in her own home, of 
course, but you should have seen her in Boston; she 
was as contented with our plain way of living as I 
was, and she didn’t fuss about anything but the coffee, 
and that was something beyond anything I ever tasted 
for sloppiness.” 

“ Humph ! I don’t blame her for fussing then.” 
Coffee was a weak point with Aunt Thankful. What 
sort of a room did you have?” 

Oh, a nice, plain sort of a room on the third floor. 
It was a back room, and we were rather glad of it, 
for we could put our various articles of food out on 
the window-sill and not be afraid of offending the 
passers-by.” 

And you two roomed together ?” 

Yes, indeed; we couldn’t afford two rooms.” 

“ Couldn’t afford, with all the money the Bromleys 
have.” 

“ Oh, but you know, Isabel wouldn’t spend a cent 


i 84 her very best 

more than I did, and it made it much pleasanter for 
me.” 

‘‘Very sensible. She has a nice face. I like her 
looks. What’s the uncle like? Up in middle life, I 
suppose.” 

“Yes,” responded Barbara, innocently; “he isn’t 
young.” 

“ And the other man, — Merrill, did you say his name 
is ? — what is he like ?” 

“ Oh, he’s very nice and jolly, and not a bit airish. 
He’s like most artists, and doesn’t care for conven- 
tionalities ; I mean for fashionable life, and such things, 
but he is entirely well-bred. He impresses one very 
favorably, I think.” 

“ One of the kind that strikes twelve the first time,” 
returned Aunt Thankful. “ Probably he won’t wear 
well.” 

“ I think he will. He hasn’t shown a cloven foot 
yet, and we saw a good deal of him.” She arose to 
go out on the porch where Helen was swinging in the 
hammock. 

“ Here, wait a minute,” said Aunt Thankful. “ I 
don’t suppose it will put me out to have another young- 
ster here, and if you think Miss Bromley can stand me, 
I can stand her. Ask her to come here and stay while 
her people are away.” 

“ Oh, Aunt Thankful, may I ?” 

“ I said so, didn’t I ?” 

“ Yes, and thank you very, very much. Aunt Thank- 
ful.” She went to her aunt and put her arms around 
her. 


AT AUNT THANKFUL'S 185 

“ Tut ! tut !” said Aunt Thankful, not ill-pleased. 
‘‘ You needn’t make any fuss over it.” 

“ May I go in to-morrow and bring her back with 
me?” 

If you choose. Remember, I warn you. I’ll not 
change my way of living one whit.” 

“ Indeed, I wouldn’t have you,” responded Barbara, 
warmly. It is good enough for any one, and Isabel 
will be perfectly delighted I know.” She started to- 
ward the door, but turned with her hand on the knob. 
“ Aunt Thankful,” she said, “ I must confess, I hoped 
you would ask her to come.” 

Aunt Thankful smiled grimly. She liked Barbara 
because of her always honest confessions. “ I can get 
along with people who don’t pretend,” she said, “ and 
Barbara Palmer is as transparent as the day. She 
couldn’t do a covert thing without announcing it the 
next minute, and that suits me to a dot.” So now she 
uttered no word of criticism, and Barbara went out to 
join Helen. 

“ Your legs and arms are growing so fast that I shall 
have to do something to them,” she said as she estab- 
lished herself by the side of her little sister. You are 
going to be taller than I am, Helen.” 

“ Am I ? Like Miss Isabel ? I hope I will be as tall 
as she is.” 

“ I shouldn’t be surprised if you were. By the way, 
Isabel is coming here to make a visit.” 

“ Good !” cried Helen ; “ and Roger is coming up 
with grandfather to spend Sunday, and I expect Mr. 
Karl will be back by Saturday, and maybe he will 
come, too. Won’t it be fun? I love to have a lot of 


i86 


HER VERY BEST 


company. I’m glad I had the measles, so I had to come 
here before the summer holidays. If I had been well 
we should have had to stay in the city all through 
June.” 

Barbara shook her head gently. “ You ought to like 
to go to school,” she said, gravely. 

“ I don’t mind it so very much, but I like best to be 
here.” 

“ And you like Aunt Thankful ?” 

“ Yes, but she is very funny sometimes. See, there 
she comes now with her basket and shears. I expect 
she is going to cut roses. I’m going with her.” 

‘‘ Put on your hat, then. Your eyes must be shaded 
carefully till they are quite strong.” 

“ Have you seen anything of my flock of turkeys, 
Barbara?” asked Aunt Thankful. They will wander 
away, and I have a difficulty in keeping track of them.” 

“ No, I haven’t seen them,” was the reply. Is it a 
large flock. Aunt Thankful ? I’ll go and hunt them for 
you.” 

There are two,” replied Aunt Thankful, blandly, 
“ and you’ll be likely to find them in the orchard.” 

Barbara turned away to hide a smile. “ Shall I drive 
them up?” she asked. 

“ No, you needn’t do that, but just keep an eye on 
them. I don’t want them to get off in the woods.” 

Barbara picked up her writing-materials and her hat, 
and went down the path to the orchard. Aunt Thank- 
ful had many old-fashioned ways, and was now going 
forth to gather roses for the still, for she made her own 
rose-water, and her garden supplied her with the herbs 
and fruits which she carefully dried. She wore a small 


AT AUNT THANKFUL’S 


187 

white cap, and “ inside handkerchief,’' as she called 
it, and her appearance was a perfect delight to Isabel, 
who declared her to be “ delicious.” 

Barbara had decided to send Isabel a note, for the 
charm of the country in June was upon her, and she 
hated to think of city streets ; therefore she spent her 
afternoon in the orchard, after having despatched her 
note. Isabel’s reply came without delay, and the next 
afternoon found Barbara preparing to meet her. 

“You had better take the chaise,” Aunt Thankful 
said, for so she always designated her old buggy; 
“ and be careful not to drive too fast. I don’t like 
Dolly to be overheated,” as if fat Dolly, who never, 
with the utmost urging, could be made to go beyond a 
slow trot, could get overheated, thought Barbara. 
“ You will be careful ?” continued Aunt Thankful, 
anxiously, as Barbara drove off. “You are sure you 
can manage her?” 

“ Why, Aunt Thankful, I have driven a horse ever 
since I was three or four years old,” Barbara replied. 
“ Before we came to New York I used to go out every 
day.” 

“ Yes, yes, to be sure ; but I was afraid you might be 
a little out of practice.” 

Barbara threw a mirthful look to Helen, standing 
with her hands full of roses, and drove off at a most 
sedate pace. 

But she had not gone far before she heard the cry 
of “ Wait ! Wait !” and, looking back, she saw Aunt 
Thankful energetically waving her apron. She there- 
fore drew the lines to attend to any further charges. 

“ Be very careful not to go too near the cars,” called 


i88 


HER VERY BEST 


Aunt Thankful. “ Dolly might take affright and run 
away with you.” 

“ Is she afraid of the cars ?” 

“ No, she doesn’t seem to be, but she might take a 
sudden fancy that way. You can never tell what a 
horse will do.” 

“ I’ll be careful,” returned Barbara, and she jogged 
along, a smile playing about her lips. 

“ I don’t wonder that Aunt Thankful has to get up 
at daylight when she wants to come to town,” she 
thought, “ for at this gait it will be some hours before 
we reach the station. I believe the train is coming 
now.” But this proved a false alarm, although the 
train bearing Isabel to the place had left the station 
when Barbara drove up. 

“Isn’t this enchanting?” cried Isabel. “Oh, Bar- 
bara, I was never more pleased than when I got your 
note. Is it far to Miss Ray’s?” 

“ No, only about two miles. This very elegant rig 
will take you there in due course of time. I was 
charged not to drive fast, you see.” 

Isabel’s eyes were full of a merry appreciation of 
the horse and vehicle. 

“ This is the wonderful ‘ one-hoss shay,’ ” Barbara 
went on. “ I think it must have been in the family 
for generations, and the horse, too. Isn’t she fat and 
lazy? I don’t believe she has ever been driven off a 
dog-trot in her life. When Aunt Thankful is driving, 
she stops whenever she or Dolly feels inclined, and she 
allows Dolly to nibble bits of grass or do anything of 
the kind at will. In fact, I believe if Dolly took it into 
her head not to go a certain road. Aunt Thankful would 


AT AUNT THANKFUUS 189 

put off her business in that direction, for that day, at 
least.” 

“She is a dear; I just love her!” cried Isabel. 
“ Aren’t the lanes lovely this time of year ? Oh, Bar- 
bara, I mustn’t forget that Uncle Henry wants to know 
if he may come out some day. He says his aunt used 
to know your Aunt Thankful when she was young. 
She is my great-aunt, you know, and she lives in New 
Jersey. I must try to go and see her some day. She 
is quite an invalid, and rarely goes out. I am afraid 
none of us go there as often as we should. I never 
knew Uncle Henry to go before. I wonder what 
started him. She is not well off, and — well, I ought 
to take matters in my own hands and go whenever I 
can. I promised Uncle Henry I would go down with 
him next week.” 

“ Your uncle is not very much like your mother, is 
he?” said Barbara, thoughtfully. 

Isabel smiled. “ No, he is not, for I know what you 
mean. Mamma is a butterfly of fashion. Poor dear ! 
I wish her world had wider limits. She has many good 
qualities, you know, Barbara.” 

“ Oh, Isabel, please don’t think I meant to censure 
her.” 

“ I know you didn’t, but I am aware of how her 
point of view and yours must differ. Mamma is gen- 
erous and kind, a devoted wife and mother, and a loyal 
friend, but she doesn’t understand her daughter, whose 
ambition differs so materially from hers. We’ve talked 
this over before so often, and it is always the same. 
I’ve often wondered what would happen if papa were 
suddenly to become very poor.” 


190 


HER VERY BEST 


‘‘ Aunt Thankful says it would be a blessing to you.” 

“ Perhaps. I think it would be one to Uncle Henry 
if he had to work for his living. He needs something 
to make him have an aim in life. I fancy he is often 
dissatisfied with himself.” 

“ He is. He has told me so.” 

He has been quite a student, and has written a 
little for the magazines, in a dilettante way, and he 
has travelled extensively, but I don’t believe he ever 
earned a penny in his life.” 

“ I think that is very sad,” said Barbara, in perfect 
honesty. 

Isabel laughed. “ So it is, from your point of view, 
but it isn’t from the world’s stand-point. Mamma 
exults in it. Still, I think if Uncle Henry had been 
differently situated, he might have made his mark. He 
wanted to go into the navy when he was a lad, but his 
mother objected. He was her youngest born, and she 
couldn’t bear to be parted from him.” 

“ That was selfish.” 

“ Of course it was. What is called affection is often 
nothing more than selfishness, I find. It is the enjoy- 
ment of an object; not the devotion to that object for 
its own happiness, or for its own best good.” 

“ My, how deep we are getting !” 

“Yes; it is constant association with a young per- 
son, one Barbara Palmer, who stirs my thoughts con- 
tinually. I never knew how to think till I knew her.” 

“ Now, Isabel,” began Barbara, deprecatingly, “ it 
is not I at all, for I think we both owe to Mr. Adams 
and the Gardners more than we owe to each other.” 

“ Maybe. I’ll be honest and confess it. Perhaps 


AT AUNT THANKFUUS 


191 

we’d better say that our study of art has made us per- 
ceptive of the spiritual as well as the material. Will 
that do?" 

“ Yes, I think so. Here we are at the first gate. This 
is a long lane, and it has many turnings. Can you 
drive through without hitting the gate-post? If you 
can’t, you can just hold the lines, for Dolly knows 
enough to avoid stumps and stakes.’’ And in a few 
minutes they had halted at Aunt Thankful’s door. 


CHAPTER VI 


COMPANY 

Aunt Thankful greeted her guest with old-time 
courtesy. She was ushered into the drawing-room, 
a dignified and formal place, but full of antique furni- 
ture and queerly ancient ornaments. Here she was 
regaled upon currant shrub and pound-cake before 
Barbara was allowed to conduct her up-stairs into the 
old-fashioned bedroom whose windows gave glimpses 
of green fields beyond which stretched a line of spark- 
ling water. 

“ Isn’t it the dearest place ?” cried Isabel, looking 
around upon the various objects in the room, — the 
four-posted bedstead, the tall bureau with its bulging 
front and brass-handled drawers, the braided rugs upon 
the floor, the dimity curtains, and the straight-backed 
chairs. 

“ Helen and I are next to you,” Barbara told her. 

We have early tea and a mid-day dinner. No frills 
here, as Roger says. A serge skirt and a shirt-waist 
will be your proper costume for most occasions.” 

“ Delightful !” 

‘^Yon may dress up on Sundays, if you like, and 
on high days and holidays, but don’t come sailing down 
in evening dress as you do at home. Aunt Thankful 
would be scandalized.” 

I’ll remember ; but you make me half afraid of 
her.” 


192 


COMPANY 


193 


“ You needn’t be ; only I warn you not to be too 
dressy. Are you ready? Shall we go down? I want 
to show you the garden.” 

It did not take Isabel long to adapt herself to these 
new surroundings. She showed a pretty humility 
about some things, but her natural imperiousness would 
sometimes assert itself; then Aunt Thankful would 
meet the occasion with, “ Hoity-toity, miss ! In my 
young days girls of your age knew better than to toss 
their heads and put on such disdainful looks before 
their elders. Pride goes before a fall, they used to 
tell me.” And then Isabel would laugh and come 
down from her high horse. 

Saturday brought quite a host of visitors. First, Mr. 
Vandermeer arrived. “ Here comes Uncle Henry,” 
Isabel announced from the porch where they were all 
sitting. 

Aunt Thankful’s glance took in the approaching 
figure, then she turned indignantly to Barbara. “ I 
thought you told me he was a middle-aged man,” she 
said. 

“ Well, so he is, isn’t he ?” returned Barbara, inno- 
cently. 

He can’t be more than thirty, from his looks.” 

He is about that, maybe a little older. I should call 
any one over thirty middle-aged.” 

Aunt Thankful laughed. I call it pretty young. 
I suppose it depends upon which side of thirty you 
are yourself.” Nevertheless, she welcomed Mr. Van- 
dermeer heartily, and at once became interested in 
hearing of her old friend. Miss Caroline Wilmer. 

'' Poor Aunt Caroline, she is a great sufferer,” Mr. 

13 


HER VERY BEST 


194 

Vandermeer told them. “ She fell from a carriage and 
injured her back some years ago, and is now confined 
to her room most of the time. Still, she is a sweet, 
cheerful body, although she must pass many lonely 
hours.” 

“ Is she able to read? Does it tire her?” asked Isa- 
bel. 

“ It wearies her to hold heavy books, and she 
has not been provided with much which is light in 
weight.” 

I know what we can do,” said Barbara. “ Oh, 
Isabel, you have so many magazines which you simply 
look over and throw aside; let us take out the best 
in them for Miss Wilmer. We can stitch together the 
pages of a story or an interesting article, and make a 
separate booklet of each.” 

“ That’s just like you, Barbara,” said Isabel, fondly. 

“ Oh, don’t give me the credit of the invention. I 
saw it suggested in a newspaper the other day.” 

“ Uncle Henry, will you go to the house, when you 
return to the city, and collect all the magazines you 
can lay your hands on, and send them out here to me ?” 
Isabel said. 

“ I will, with pleasure.” 

“ I will go and see Caroline myself,” Miss Ray 
said. “ I’ve not seen her for years, but I remember 
her very well.” 

'' I saw our friend Merrill on the train,” Mr. Van- 
dermeer told them. “ He was on his way to visit some 
cousins a little farther on, but I fancy he will find his 
way here.” 

Isabel turned a rosy red. '' He has some cousins 


COMPANY 


195 

up this way. I remember he told me/' Barbara re- 
marked. 

Who are they ?” Aunt Thankful asked. 

I don’t know. Do you, Isabel ?” 

“ Their name is Marvin, I believe.” 

Aunt Thankful nodded. “ I know them. There are 
three girls and their widowed mother. An uncle, too, 
I think, lives with them. At least, that is the family 
I know.” 

“ It must be the same,” Isabel told her. “ I have 
heard Mr. Merrill mention three daughters in the 
family.” 

The afternoon proved her to be right, for there 
appeared Mr. Merrill and his three cousins, who had 
driven over from a neighboring village, to call on the 
new arrivals at Miss Ray’s house. The three Marvin 
girls were quite different in appearance as well as in 
character. Cora, the eldest, was also the prettiest, but 
she was quite conscious of the fact, and seemed to 
think that everything must come to her by right of 
her good looks. Marian had an intelligent face and a 
sympathetic voice and manner, while Grace, the young- 
est, seemed a thoughtless little creature, who might 
develop well or ill, according to her influences and 
environment. She was unaffectedly spontaneous, and 
made speeches which rather shocked Miss Ray. 

They had not taken their departure when Mr. Pal- 
mer, Roger, and Mr. Karl Blumenbach arrived upon 
the scene. Barbara was borne off by Roger, after she 
had given Mr. Karl over to the second Miss Marvin, 
but she kept herself in sight, with watchful eye to the 
entertainment of the callers. 


HER VERY BEST 


196 

Who are they, anyhow ?” growled Roger. 

Cousins of Mr. Merrill. You remember I told 
you about his being with us so much in Boston.” 

Roger leaned back against the tree, under which 
they were sitting, to go through the process of sizing 
them up,” as he called it. 

He was at an age to be rather shy of girls, but he 
confessed that he didn’t mind “ the jolly ones,” and 
was very good friends with Isabel. “ Say, that tallest 
one is awfully struck on herself,” he said, in boyish 
vernacular. I notice she has taken the best chair. 
She moved herself into it when Aunt Thankful got 
up to speak to us, and hadn’t the manners to offer it 
to her when she came back. I don’t fancy her.” 

She is very pretty,” put in Barbara. 

“ Hm-hm. So-so ; but she’s so deadly conscious of 
it that it spoils her. That next one is the backbone of 
the family. I’ll bet. She’s the one who does the market- 
ing, and washes the dishes when the servant has her 
Sunday off.” 

Barbara laughed. You know all about it, of 
course. What of Miss Grace?” 

She’s all right, too,” returned Roger. “ I like her. 
She’s not afraid to speak her mind. She isn’t just ex- 
actly pretty, but she is full of fun, and has a nice taking 
little way.” 

“ Then I’ll let her try it on you. Come over and 
talk to her while I have a word with grandfather.” 

Just wait a minute. Miss Don’t-you-think-I’m- 
pretty has monopolized Mr. Merrill, and now she has 
taken Mr. Karl from her sister. It was rather a neat 
trick, but I’ll break that up.” 


COMPANY 


197 


‘‘ Now, Roger.” 

“ Yes, I will. I don’t propose to let that sort of 
thing go on.” 

“ Ride on. Sir Knight.” And Roger advanced to- 
ward the porch where all the others were sitting. He 
established himself by Isabel, who was talking to Mr. 
Palmer, and began a recital of something which Mr. 
Karl had been telling him. 

Mr. Karl’s attention was gradually attracted by 
Roger’s frequent repetition of his name, and he soon 
left Miss Marvin’s side. “ I beg your pardon, Miss 
Bromley,” he said, “ but Roger is getting that slightly 
mixed. It was this way. I am not over-modest, but 
really, when all sorts of things are attributed to me 
that belong to some one else, I must do the other fellow 
justice.” 

All right, you tell it,” said Roger, composedly. 
“ I wasn’t there, and of course I couldn’t be expected 
to get the hang of it.” And he turned a mischievous 
countenance upon Barbara. “ I knew that would fetch 
him,” he said, in an undertone, as he joined her. Then 
the two crossed the porch to where Miss Grace was 
trying to entertain Mr. Vandermeer, who smiled in- 
dulgently at her nonsense. 

He looked up with an air of relief as Barbara ap- 
proached, but now Miss Marvin had made a move- 
ment to go, and the party broke up, with promises 
from Aunt Thankful’s girls to take tea with the Mar- 
vins the next week, Roger being included in the invi- 
tation, since he meant to stay for a week, previous to 
his starting forth with Mr. Karl on a business trip. 

He was highly elated over his prospects. He had 


HER VERY BEST 


198 

been studying hard all winter, and the young German 
had managed to have the lad appointed as one of his 
assistants in some work he was about to undertake 
in the West; so Roger was really going to see life, 
and was beginning to feel himself self-supporting. 

Isabel and Barbara turned to each other when the 
guests drove away. ^‘Well?’’ said Barbara. 

“Well?’’ returned Isabel, with what, Barbara 
thought, was rather a forlorn little smile. 

“ They seem rather nice girls, don’t you think ?” 

“ Oh, yes, very nice.” Isabel strove to speak with 
enthusiasm. 

“ Especially the second one. I liked her the best.” 

“ So did I.” There was real warmth this time. 
Nevertheless, Isabel seemed very quiet and absent- 
minded the rest of the evening. 

“ We are quite piled up with engagements,” said 
Barbara, entering Isabel’s room that night. “We are 
to go to tea to the Marvins, and we are going to Orange 
to see Miss Wilmer, and grandfather has brought us 
tickets for a very good concert on Tuesday. Mr. Van- 
dermeer says he will go, but I am afraid it will involve 
our staying in town all night. Then the Adamses and 
the Gardners are coming out here one day next week 
to do some sketching. I think we might ask Mr. Mer- 
rill to come, too, the same day. Aunt Thankful is 
getting quite gay, isn’t she? You aren’t a bit enthu- 
siastic, Isabel, dear. What makes you so quiet? Are 
you homesick, or what? You were so joyous all the 
time we were in Boston. What has come over the 
spirit of your dreams ?” 

“ I’m not homesick,” replied Isabel, drawing Bar- 


COMPANY 


199 

bara close to her. “ Please love me, Barbara. Love' 
me very much.” 

“ I do love you dearly,” returned Barbara, earnestly. 
“ You are my very dearest, dearest friend, you know. 
Won’t you tell me what makes you so — so pensive?” 

Isabel shook her head, and after many assurances of 
her devotion, Barbara left her. But in the quiet of her 
own room, with Helen fast asleep by her side, she gave 
herself up to thought. Two questions troubled her. 
Why was Isabel so depressed? and what meant that 
very reproachful look upon Mr. Karl’s face when he 
gave her his usual “ Guten Nacht, und schlafen sie 
wohl” ? She could settle neither, and went to sleep 
with the glory of a Sabbath morning in June to dissi- 
pate her worries of the night before. 

Mr. Karl, who was an early riser, found her on the 
porch gathering clusters of roses with which to adorn 
the breakfast-table. “ These remind me of my old 
home in Maryland,” she told him. A bush of Balti- 
more Belles used to grow all over one of the porches, 
and a dear little humming-bird used to build among 
them every year.” She gave a little sigh. 

Does it then make you so sad ?” asked Mr. ’Karl. 

“ Not exactly, but I think we must always have a 
little tugging at the heart when we remember our 
childhood’s home. It isn’t so much that we regret 
the home, as it is that memories haunt such places, and 
they bring a sigh.” 

“ I think it is so. I was a very small chap when I 
left Germany, but I often sigh when I remember it. 
Those are very pretty little flowers. Will you give me 
one?” 


200 


HER VERY BEST 


“ Certainly. They are pure white when they are 
fully open, but the buds tinged with pink are even 
lovelier. Here is one half-blown. Put it in your 
button-hole.” She fastened it in his coat, and just then 
Mr. Vandermeer came out. Mr. Karl gave a quick 
little frown, but Barbara turned with a cheerful greet- 
ing. 

“ You are up early, for a New Yorker,” she said. 
“ What stirred your slumbers ?” 

“ The noises,” he said, smiling. 

“Noises? After New York?” 

“Yes; the confused rumble of city streets doesn’t 
disturb me, but a particularly shrill-voiced rooster, and 
a very eloquent calf, not to mention a flock of guinea- 
fowls, were too much for me.” 

Barbara laughed. “ He doesn’t know how to appre- 
ciate rural music, does he, Mr. Karl? Now, all those 
things make me drowsy ; but I like to get up early, 
not because I am awakened by country sounds, but 
because everything is so deliciously fresh and beautiful 
these lovely summer mornings. Look at those roses 
out there. If it were not for the dew, I would have 
some of them. They are such a glorious color.” 

“ Do you want them ? I shall be pleased to gather 
them,” said Mr. Karl, eagerly, catching up the shears 
with which she had been cutting l^er flowers. 

“ Only a few,” Barbara assented. “ Don’t get your 
feet wet.” 

He smiled and glanced down at his foot-gear. “ I, 
who go through mud and wet, in all kinds of weather, 
would be a pretty fellow to stop at a trifle of dew on 
the grass,” he answered, as he sprang down the steps. 


COMPANY 


201 


Mr. Vandermeer watched him depart with some 
complacency. “ He is a stirring young man, is he 
not?’’ he said, dropping into a chair. 

Yes, and a good one ; a devoted son and a kind 
friend, and much else/' she replied, her eyes following 
Mr. Karl's clippings of thorny stems. 

Will you drive to church with me?" Mr. Vander- 
meer asked, abruptly. 

“ Why, we will all go together, I suppose," Barbara 
returned, without taking her eyes from Mr. Karl's 
movements. 

There are — let me see — one, two, three — eight of 
us, you know." 

“ Four can go in the carriage and two in the chaise, 
and it is true that there will be two left out, although 
Roger and Mr. Karl can go on their wheels." 

“ Then, perhaps, I may take you in the chaise." 

Barbara’s mouth showed her amusement at the sug- 
gestion. Then we might as well start now," she said, 
“ for Dolly always is driven to the chaise. I forgot, 
you do not know her speed. We can easily walk 
faster.” 

“ But it is dusty.” 

Do you mind dust ?” 

Sometimes, yes.” 

“ You don't mind dust, nor mud, nor wet, do you, 
Mr. Karl ?” Barbara asked, going forward to take the 
roses from the young man’s hand. How lovely these 
are!” 

“ I mind those things ? I say, no, indeed.” 

Then you can let Mr. Vandermeer have your 
wheel, and you and I will walk to church.” 


202 


HER VERY BEST 


Mr. Karl’s face was radiant. “ I am most happy to 
do so,” was his reply. 

“ I think, after all. I’ll not go to church,” said Mr. 
Vandermeer a trifle crossly. “ Early rising has its ad- 
vantages, no doubt, but I’m afraid I shall disgrace my- 
self by nodding during the sermon. I am exceedingly 
obliged for the offer of your wheel, Mr. Blumenbach, 
but one doesn’t escape dust by such means.” And he 
left them to enter the house. 

“ There,” thought Barbara, “ I have wickedly pre- 
vented him from going to church. What made me so 
contrary? I was suddenly annoyed that he should be 
so — so — fastidious. Yet, he isn’t at most times.” She 
stood looking so long into the hearts of the roses that 
Mr. Karl at last asked her what she saw there. “ A 
secret,” she answered, smiling. 


CHAPTER VII 


TWO FAREWELLS 

But it was not according to Aunt Thankful’s in- 
tentions that any one visiting her should stay home 
from church without good reasons, and she therefore 
had the chaise made ready and ordered Roger to take 
his place in it with her, and Mr. Vandermeer was rele- 
gated to a place by Isabel, rather to his chagrin, it 
must be confessed. The party in the carriage passed 
Mr. Karl and Barbara contentedly trudging along on 
foot. 

“ It would have been much more proper for Miss 
Barbara to have taken my place,” Mr. Vandermeer 
said to Isabel, with a little frown. 

“ Then why don’t you get out and insist upon it ?” 
returned Isabel, with a little amused smile. 

Simply because it would do no good. In her quiet 
way that young friend of yours has a mind of her 
own.” * 

And you may as well spare yourself a walk. I 
am afraid you are lazy. Uncle Henry.” 

“ Mr. Vandermeer isn’t lazy,” spoke up Helen from 
the front seat. “ Don’t you remember. Miss Isabel, 
how he walked in Europe? He told me all about it.” 

“ I have one friend, I see,” Mr. Vandermeer said. 

Thank you, Helen. I have always been abused by 
this niece of mine, and it is high time I was having 
a champion.” But here a remark from Mr. Palmer 

203 


204 


HER VERY BEST 


changed the current of the conversation, and they soon 
arrived at the church. 

Mr. Karl and Barbara reached home in time to let 
Dolly through the gate. They both seemed a little 
sobered by their walk, a fact which Mr. Vandermeer 
noted. Yet Barbara never told any one why she . was 
so grave the rest of the day, nor why she managed to 
be out of the way when Mr. Karl took his departure 
that afternoon. 

“ I hunted for you high and low,” said Roger, meet- 
ing her coming up from the orchard. “ Where were 
you ?” 

“ Oh, you haven’t discovered my favorite roosting- 
place yet,” said Barbara, gayly. I always sneak oif 
there on Sunday afternoons, and give myself up to 
one of my dearest books.” 

“ Well, you might have taken better note of time, 
and have come to say good-by to Mr. Karl. You will 
not see him again before we leave for the West.” 

“ Oh, has he gone ?” Barbara asked, indifferently 
enough, it seemed ; although, to hide her flushed 
^ cheeks, she stooped to pick a daisy from the grass. 

“ Yes, he’s gone; but he told me to tell you that he 
is a very persevering individual. We all know that, 
and I don’t see why he was so particular about my 
telling you.” 

“ It does seem rather an unnecessary piece of in- 
formation,” Barbara assented, airily. “ Come, Boggie, 
and I’ll show you my tree, but you mustn’t tell any 
one where it is.” And she led the way to a gnarled 
old apple-tree where a crotch provided a fine seat. 


TWO FAREWELLS 


205 

Roger swung himself up into it and smiled down 
at his sister. “ It reminds me of home/’ he said. 

“ So it does me. You used to be so obstreperous 
those days. There have been so many changes since 
then, but I don’t regret them.” 

'' Nor I. There comes Mr. Vandermeer. Up with 
you, Bab, before he sees you.” And he swooped Bar- 
bara up beside him. Not, however, before Mr. Van- 
dermeer had seen the act. 

Ahoy, up there !” he cried. 

Barbara peeped down between the leaves. “Ahoy 
yourself! You are too bad, Mr. Vandermeer; you 
have spoiled my fun by discovering my place of 
refuge.” 

Mr. Vandermeer looked quite crestfallen. “ I seem 
to be putting my foot in it all the time lately,” he said, 
apologetically, and Barbara showed signs of relenting, 
but Roger shook his head at her and held her fast. 

“ I came to say good-by,” Mr. Vandermeer informed 
her. “ I am going back to the city.” 

“ Oh, are you ? Help me down, Roger.” 

“ Allow me.” 

“ No, please. Climbing trees is not a graceful ac- 
complishment. I’d rather you didn’t see me. Just 
walk on a little way and I’ll come.” He obeyed at 
once, and, leaving Roger to sulk at having their little 
conference interrupted, Barbara joined Mr. Vander- 
meer. 

“Why don’t you wait till morning?” she asked. 
“ Or if you were going, why didn’t you go with Mr. 
Karl?” 


2o6 


HER VERY BEST 


'' I think Mr. Karl had more agreeable company.’' 

“ What?” 

'' His own thoughts.” 

They are generally a good wholesome kind, I 
imagine. How about yours?” 

“ They will be scarcely jovial on this occasion. I 
have suddenly come to a realizing sense that I am not 
as young as I thought I was.” 

How is that ? Have you come across a family 
Bible or something of the kind ?” 

“ Not exactly. But never mind that. I find I must 
go back to the city.” 

We shall see you on Tuesday, I suppose, at the 
concert,” Barbara returned, in a matter-of-fact way. 

I expect to be there.” 

It’s hardly worth while to say good-by for so short 
a time. Tuesday is only the day after to-morrow. 
However, since you seem to have hunted me up to 
make your proper adieux, good-by.” And she held 
out her hand. 

He took it, saying, “ Good-by ; but I am not going 
just yet.” 

“ Why, I thought you came out here particularly to 
make your farewells.” 

So I did, but it is a very lovely evening, and I 
thought we might take a short walk before I go.” 

It is even more dusty than it was this morning, 
and I thought you didn’t like dust.” 

We don’t need to go by the road, do we?” he re- 
plied, imperturbably. “We can take that pleasant path 
across the fields.” 


TWO FAREWELLS 


207 

It is too warm, and I have walked enough for one 
day.’' 

Then let us sit down out here for a few moments. 
It is such a perfect evening.” 

“ I promised Isabel that I would come back and 
waken her in time to dress for supper.” 

“ She is awake. I heard her singing as I passed her 
door.” 

Barbara drew down her mouth and shook her head, 
with a slight frown. “ You don’t give me a loop-hole 
of escape, do you?” 

‘‘ Not if I can help it. Miss Barbara, I — pardon 
me if I seem inquisitive, but I take the privilege of 
one who was your father’s friend. Mr. Blumenbach, 
am I to congratulate him?” 

“ On what?” 

“ On his approaching marriage to a very dear little 
friend of mine.” 

“Mr. Blumenbach? Why, the dear old man is 
already very happily married,” Barbara answered, 
mischievously. 

“ I mean the younger one, Mr. Karl.” 

“ Oh, I don’t know. I’m sure. He has never told 
me that he was engaged to be married. Perhaps he 
is. I will find out, if you are anxious to know. There, 
I see Isabel, and, yes, I must change my dress.” 

“ Miss Barbara ” 

“ No, no, I can’t answer any more questions now. 
I’m in a hurry. You will not be going till after tea?” 
She paused a short distance away and looked back. 

“ Not till after tea.” 


208 


HER VERY BEST 


“ Then a second series of adieux would be superflu- 
ous just now.” 

“ Adios, sehorita ; since you will go.” 

Barbara ran up to the house thinking, Dear me, 
there must be something in the weather to make these 
men so sentimental to-day. Oh, dear! I don’t like 
to be grown up. The idea of Mr. Vandermeer asking 
me that. I’m a goose, maybe, to think anything of 
it. He simply takes a fatherly interest in me; I 
needn’t act like such a scare-cat. I’m sorry he’s going, 
but I wouldn’t have him know it for the world.” She 
paused a moment in front of the red rose-bush from 
which Mr. Karl had that morning gathered the flowers, 
and she sighed. Why did she like to tease Mr. Van- 
dermeer? And why did that message of Mr. Karl’s 
half annoy her? The roses did not answer, and she 
went on up-stairs, to descend to the porch just before 
tea-time to join Isabel, who was sitting there reading. 

Well, dear, how has the day gone?” asked the 
latter. It seems to me I haven’t seen much of you.” 

‘‘ Quite true, your royal highness. I couldn’t help 
it, though. I don’t know just how the day has gone. 
It has been lovely, so far as weather is concerned, but 
somehow I am not possessed of that Sabbath calm 
which the evening suggests. What are your feelings 
upon the subject?” 

“ I think it has been a horrid day,” said Isabel, with 
emphasis. 

Barbara regarded her contemplatively for a mo- 
ment ; then she laughed. “ I think,” she said, “ that 
we’d better go back to school, for ^ Satan finds some 
mischief still for idle hands to do,’ and we were happy 


TWO FAREWELLS 


209 

enough all winter over such puzzling things as values 
and color and proportion. Let’s turn our backs upon 
the world, Isabel dear, and go into retreat, where we 
shall have nothing to do but paint. June in the coun- 
try, and we are restless and disturbed. Something 
must be radically wrong.” 

“ I am afraid there is with me,” sighed Isabel, “ but 

with you Oh, Barbara, I never thought Is 

that it?” 

“ Is what it ?” 

“ Tell me truthfully. Are you grieving for Mr. 
Karl?” 

'' I ? No, my lady, I am not. Cross my heart.” 

‘‘ Then, what is it that disturbs you ?” 

You tell.” 

I can’t. Here comes Uncle Henry. He looks 
serene enough. It is plain to see that the matters 
which upset our equilibrium have no effect upon him. 
I wish I were a man.” 

Barbara hid a smile. It seemed to her that she had 
observed two rather dissatisfied men that day. How- 
ever, she kept her own counsel. 

Mr. Vandermeer left them directly after tea, and 
on Tuesday, when they reached New York, Isabel 
found a note at her home from him, saying that he 
had been called away suddenly, and that it was un- 
certain when he would return. “ I think that is 
mean,” Isabel declared, handing the note to Barbara. 
“ He might have waited till after to-day.” 

Perhaps he couldn’t,” Barbara returned, weakly. 

“Yes, he could. He hasn’t anything to do but 
amuse himself. I suppose he’s gone on some trip or 
14 


210 


HER VERY BEST 


other with one of his club friends, to some hunting- 
lodge or camp, or some such place. He’s always 
doing so.” 

Barbara handed her back the note without a word. 

“ Well, he has a right to do as he pleases,” Isabel 
continued. '' We can get along without him.” 

Oh, yes, of course we can,” Barbara assented. 
But there was not quite the enjoyment in the concert 
that she had expected, and although the evening with 
the Gardners and the Adamses offered the same en- 
tertainment that such evenings had before done, some- 
how something was missing. 

‘‘ I suppose you see a great deal of Lawrence Mer- 
rill,” Mrs. Gardner said to the girls. 

“ We have seen him once,” Barbara returned ; but 
we are going to take tea with his cousins on Thurs- 
day, and we shall see him then, I suppose.” 

He is with his cousins a greater part of his time 
nowadays,” Mrs. Gardner continued ; “ but I believe 
one of them is sitting for him. He told me she was 
a stunning model, and he hoped his picture would 
be a success.” 

Barbara glanced quickly at Isabel before she an- 
swered, I suppose it is the eldest Miss Marvin, — 
Miss Cora; she is quite handsome.” Then came an 
interruption, and the subject was not brought up 
again. 

The next day Miss Ray joined them to make the 
promised visit to Miss Wilmer. “ I may be in just 
such a forlorn condition myself some day,” said 
Isabel, “ and I mean to do all I can for her.” She 


TWO FAREWELLS 


2II 


was given to a very melancholy view of things lately, 
Barbara discovered. 

They found Miss Wilmer a very cheerful invalid, 
and well pleased to see them. “ I have every com- 
fort,” she told them. “ Since that dear boy sought me 
out I have wanted for nothing. Do you know, he 
had my favorite flowers sent to me every Saturday? 
And the other day came a graphophone. You cannot 
think what a source of amusement it is to me.” 

“ What boy do you mean ?” Aunt Thankful asked. 

Henry Vandermeer, to be sure. Although I am 
only his mother’s step-sister, he gives me as much at- 
tention as if I were a real blood relation on both sides 
of the house. He is one of the salt of the earth, and, 
better still, he doesn’t let his left hand know what his 
right hand does.” 

Isabel smiled. “ Uncle Henry in the character of a 
saint is something new to me,” she said. He is a 
dear, generous fellow, although I have usually thought 
of him as being rather indolent and self-indulgent.” 

“ Don’t you believe it,” returnejl Miss Wilmer. 

He has never had any incentive to make him other- 
wise, but it is in him to be as self-sacrificing as any 
one. His letter this morning made my heart leap with 
joy.” 

Why, does he write to you ?” Isabel asked, in sur- 
prise. 

“ Regularly once a week, my dear, and such bright, 
newsy letters.” 

‘‘ And we don’t even know where he is,” said Isa- 
bel, turning to Barbara wonderingly. 

“ He has gone out to one of those flooded districts in 


212 


HER VERY BEST 


the Southwest, and is helping those poor creatures out 
there to get on their feet again,” Miss Wilmer told 
them. 

At this piece of information Isabel looked very 
thoughtful. I couldn’t have believed it,” was her 
final comment. 

When they had handed over their supply of neatly 
stitched pages of reading matter, the girls left Miss 
Thankful to talk over old times, and the two returned 
to the city. 

“ How true it is that we only touch at certain 
points,” said Isabel, when they were crossing the 
ferry. “ In all these years I have never known my 
Uncle Henry. I am dying to see the dear old fellow. 
I love him a thousand times more since I know what 
a truly good heart he has. I wonder if he really is 
interested in that Miss Avery,” she added, musingly. 

But Barbara said only, “ See that big ocean liner 
coming in. When will we be on one like it coming 
home from Paris, do you suppose ?” 

I don’t know,” returned Isabel. “ Perhaps I shall 
go over next year. I’d like to.” 

And leave me?” 

Maybe you could go, too.” 

“ No ; it will be a long time before I am rich 
enough; besides, now that Roger will be away so 
much, I couldn’t leave grandfather and Helen. You 
will have to go without me.” 

Not if I can help it. Wasn’t that a clever idea of 
Uncle Henry’s? I should never have thought of 
getting a graphophone, and it is such a good one. 
Some of those whizzing, droning things make my 


TWO FAREWELLS 


213 


head ache, but this one is fine. Did you hear Aunt 
Caroline say that Uncle Henry had sent one like it 
to the Children’s Hospital? I wonder how he came 
to think of it. Poor Aunt Caroline, I don’t believe she 
is long for this world, and I am glad her last days are 
made so much brighter. I must go to see her often 
and try to do what I can to make the hours less weari- 
some.” 

“ It must be very hard to be so shut in,” Barbara 
replied. And then the boat touched the New York 
side and they turned to other topics. 

That night Barbara swung in the hammock, while 
Isabel and Mr. Merrill sat under the vines at the 
other end of the porch. Mr. Merrill had come over 
to make sure that they understood that it was the next 
Thursday that they were to take tea with his cousins, 
and although Barbara noticed a little haughtiness in 
Isabel’s manner of receiving him, he did not seem to 
detect it, and was as merry as possible, while to Bar- 
bara’s plea that she was tired and didn’t feel like 
leaving her place in the hammock, she noticed that 
there was not much protest from Isabel. Truth to 
tell, Barbara was glad of a quiet moment for self- 
communion. “ That dear boy !” she repeated the words 
to herself. Why, Miss Wilmer seemed to think Isa- 
bel’s uncle a very young man. Perhaps he wasn’t so 
old, after all. Not older than Mr. Gardner, and Mr. 
Merrill was but five years younger. I believe I am 
a very silly girl,” Barbara told herself, but in just 
what way she did not even inform that other self with 
whom she was sharing her secrets. 


CHAPTER VIII 


AN ACCIDENT 

Thursday afternoon saw the girls preparing for 
their visit to the Marvins. Isabel lingered a long 
time over her toilet, but finally abided by Barbara’s 
advice and chose a delicate lavender gown, exquisite 
in texture and beautifully made. ‘‘ The most becom- 
ing thing you have,” Barbara told her, “ and that hat 
just suits it.” 

“ You look stunning. Miss Isabel,” was Roger’s com- 
ment. 

And how do I look ?” Barbara asked him. 

“ You always look best in white,” Roger answered, 
a little dissatisfied with her buff lawn ; “ but that’s 
rather pretty. You’ll do, I reckon. I hope they’ll 
have a good supper.” 

“You carnal-minded creature!” exclaimed Isabel. 
“ When you are going to see ladies you should be 
thinking of nothing but the pleasure of their society.” 

“ Humph I” Roger returned ; “ you want me to be 
like those middle-aged fellows in the times of the 
Crusades, I suppose.” 

“ They were sometimes very young, Roger,” pro- 
tested Isabel. 

“ Who said they were not ?” 

“ You called them middle-aged.” 

“ Oh, you know well enough what I meant. I’m 
214 


AN ACCIDENT 


^15 

glad I don’t live in those times, though. Just think 
of how they used to go racketing around, getting 
knocked out by fellows who came swooping from 
nobody knows where, and eating out of trenchers and 
things where all sorts of jays poked their fingers. 
Give me modern times, I say.” 

“ Yes, most sapient youth, so say we all of us. 
Which of the young ladies in particular do you in- 
tend to monopolize?” Isabel asked, teasingly. 

“ The jolly one,” replied Roger, nothing abashed. 
“ Don’t tell her how old I am, Barbara.” 

“ No, I’ll not, unless she asks me, and then I’ll tell 
her you have reached the ripe age of seventeen.” 

“ You couldn’t make it eighteen?” 

Not even for you, dearest. You know you don’t 
care a fig, anyway, and, besides, would not have me 
risk my reputation by falsifying.” 

“ No, I wouldn’t ; that’s a fact. Do you know the 
place ?” 

“ Mr. Merrill said a white house to the left ; third 
house from the meeting-house.” 

“ They are all white.” 

“ But not all the third from the corner.” 

They found the place without difficulty, and were 
met at the gate by Mr. Merrill, who piloted them up 
the walk to the front porch, where the eldest Miss 
Marvin received them. She wore a gown of some 
clinging white stuff, with a bunch of yellow roseSj 
and Barbara viewed her jealously on Isabel’s account. 
Miss Marvin bore them off to an upper room, and 
told them that Marian would appear later. “ She is 
always behindhand,” she added. “ I have been on the 


2i6 


HER VERY BEST 


porch with Cousin Lawrie, waiting for you, for an 
hour.” 

“ Our horse is not very swift,” replied Barbara, for 
the sake of saying something. 

“ Before we go down I want to show you what 
Cousin Lawrie is doing,” continued Miss Cora. “ I 
know you artists are always interested in one another’s 
work.” She ushered them into a large room, which 
showed signs of having been hastily converted into 
a studio. “This was mamma’s room,” Miss Marvin 
informed them; “but I just told her she’d have to 
give it up.” 

“ Did Mr. Merrill consent to her doing that?” Isabel 
asked, in surprise. 

“ I didn’t tell him about it. I knew he was simply 
dying to have me sit for him, and so I managed to 
get the place fixed up somehow. Now, don’t tell on 
me.” 

The girls were silent, but this was not noticed, for 
they had now reached the canvas upon which Mr. 
Merrill was working. It promised well, and both 
Isabel and Barbara were impressed by its worth. 

“ I tell Cousin Lawrie that he has idealized me,” 
Miss Marvin said. “ But then, you know, an artist 
is so likely to do that under certain circumstances. 
Do you think it like me?” 

“ Like and unlike,” returned Isabel, slowly. “ It 
is as one with your features might be ^ under certain 
circumstances.’ ” She spoke with a little curl of the 
lip, which only Barbara* saw. 

Miss Cora looked very conscious, and said, “ It isn’t 
finished, you know.” 


AN ACCIDENT 


217 


“ Do you like sitting to artists ?” asked Barbara. 

“ Sometimes, and to some persons,” Miss Cora made 
answer. “ You see Cousin Lawrie and I have known 
each other all our lives, and of course — well, you 
know, we have very good times. I am so proud of 
him. He has made dozens of studies of me. I will 
show you some of them.” And she pulled forth a 
portfolio containing a number of quick sketches. 

“ They are very clever, are they not ?” Barbara said, 
looking over Isabel’s shoulder. 

“ Very spirited,” returned Isabel. “ Thank you, 
Miss Marvin. May we look at some of these color 
studies on the wall ?” 

“ Those landscapes ? I am so fond of them. Every 
one represents some spot around here. We have had 
such lovely strolls hunting up motifs.” 

“ This vicinity offers many, I have discovered, and 
I suppose Mr. Merrill has observed the same thing,” 
Isabel said. 

“ Who is talking about me ?” a voice at the door 
inquired. “This is where I find you all, is it? I 
wanted to show you my impromptu studio which Cora 
was good enough to arrange for me. Nice light, isn’t 
it? Cora said the room wasn’t in use, so I was glad 
enough to avail myself of it. Have you been criti- 
cising my picture? I wish you would say frankly 
what fault you see in it.” 

“We are only students ; we wouldn’t presume to 
criticise,” Isabel said, distantly. 

“ The fact of your being students ought to insure me 
a criticism,” replied Mr. Merrill, smiling. 

“ You mean that they are generally too ready to 


2i8 


HER VERY BEST 


find fault because of their small amount of knowledge? 
Yes, I think that is generally their danger; conse- 
quently you will spare us the being placed under the 
category of would-be critics,” Isabel said. “We are 
interested in your little landscapes.” 

“ I am glad of that. Have you seen Mrs. Marvin 
and Marian?” 

“ Not yet. Come, Barbara, we will go down.” 

They found Roger talking to Miss Grace on the 
porch, where a mild-faced gentleman was sitting. 
Miss Cora’s face took on a little annoyed expression 
when she saw the latter. “ What made him come 
out?” she said in an undertone to her sister. He was 
presented as Mr. Adrian, and it was not till afterwards 
that the visitors learned that he was Mrs. Marvin’s 
brother. Isabel sat down by him and began talking 
in her bright way, while Barbara was left to Miss 
Cora. Marian had not yet appeared, and, indeed, it 
was only a few minutes before tea was announced that 
she did come out, looking fagged and pale. She 
was neat in appearance, but her gown was of last 
year’s pattern and showed signs of long and careful 
wear. 

The house was an old one, somewhat dingy for 
want of paint, and needing repairs ; still, everything 
was comfortable and the supper was dainty and well 
served. A neat-looking, half-grown girl waited upon 
the table deftly and quietly. 

Roger and Grace seemed to be on very good terms, 
the lively girl being one of the few who possessed the 
power of bringing out Roger’s best self. Isabel had 
the same influence, so he appeared very well. Old 


AIST'ACCIDENT 


219 


Mr. Adrian, in his shabby coat, and Mrs. Marvin, 
looking careworn and anxious, had little to say, al- 
though Barbara and Isabel did their best to be enter- 
taining. 

As they passed out of the dining-room, Roger said 
to his sister, in a low tone, Ask Miss Marian to 
sing,” and Barbara took the hint. However, Marian 
did not appear for half an hour, then Barbara made 
her request: “Don’t you sing. Miss Marian?” 

“ Yes, she does,” spoke up Grace. “ She has a 
lovely voice. Don’t frown at me, Marian. You 
have.” 

“ Please don’t refuse,” said Isabel, eagerly. “ Shall 
we go inside to listen?” 

“ No, she has a guitar, and it is lovely to hear it 
out of doors, don’t you think ?” said Grace. “ I’ll get 
it for you, Marian. You are tired, I know. We are 
so far back from the street. Miss Bromley, that we 
don’t mind having Marian show off where she cannot 
be seen, but only heard, by the people passing.” 

After a little persuasion Marian consented to sing, 
and in the soft air of a summer evening the music 
was really delightful, for the girl’s voice was of ex- 
cellent quality and she used it well. 

Still, the visit was not altogether a success. Roger 
seemed to have enjoyed it more than any of them, and 
he was very talkative during the drive back. 

“ Miss Grace seems to have been very confidential,” 
Isabel remarked, after Roger had related several bits 
of family history about the Marvins. 

“ She’s all right,” returned Roger, “ and so is Miss 
Marian. Miss Cora isn’t in it when they are around.” 


220 


HER VERY BEST 


“ So far as you are concerned, you mean ? Don’t 
you think she is pretty?” Isabel asked. 

“ Yes, rather, but she can’t hold a candle to you,” 
he added, bluntly. 

Another compliment from Roger !” laughed Bar- 
bara. “ Isabel, you are set up.” 

“ You see,” Roger went on, “ I know all about it. 
They aren’t well off. That little girl who waited on 
the table they took from an orphan asylum to raise. 
She is the only servant they keep, and Miss Marian 
made all those good things we had for supper. I’ 
tell you. I’d like to have a wife that could make rolls 
like those. I came near forgetting where I was, and 
didn’t know when to stop eating. I caught your eye, 
Barby, and then I stopped.” 

“ And none too soon. You have such an appetite, 
Roger. Isabel, he ate seventeen pieces of waffle the 
other morning.” 

Well, what if I did? I am growing.” 

“ Very true, and no one ‘ begrutches’ you, as old 
Dilly used to say. Miss Marian certainly cooked a 
very good supper if she made the cake and the salad 
and the rolls; and what did Miss Grace do?” 

“ Oh, she helped. She must sew like greased light- 
ning. She made that dress her mother had on ; began 
it yesterday and finished it to-day. Miss Marian 
wouldn’t get a new one because her mother needed 
it; and that’s why she didn’t look so well as the 
others.” 

“ The dear thing !” exclaimed the two girls. 

And who was the old gentleman with the benign 
face, Roger?” Barbara asked. 


AN ACCIDENT 


221 


“ Two by nine, I should say. Did you ever see 
such a long phiz? That’s Mrs. Marvin’s brother. 
He doesn’t amount to much, I imagine. He seems to 
have nothing to do but sit around, but I believe he 
has something the matter with him, — heart disease, 
or something of the kind. Can’t Miss Marian sing, 
though? She can have me.” 

I thought it was Miss Grace. Are you going to 
bestow your youthful affections on Miss Marian? I 
thought you would look my way, Roger, if you gave 
your affections to one older than yourself,” Isabel 
said, laughing. 

Roger gave the horse a little flick with the whip 
and replied, sagely, “ You wouldn’t wait for me, you 
know.” 

Roger’s gay humor had passed off by the next morn- 
ing, and he was in one of his grumpy moods all day, 
so that there was no living with him,” Barbara said, 
and they left him to his own devices, for Aunt Thank- 
ful and Helen started for the city on an early train, 
and the girls went off to sketch. 

There was a very proud and scornful look on Isa- 
bel’s face when, early in the afternoon, Mr. Merrill 
was seen approaching on his wheel. He came up to 
the porch in his usual free and easy manner, and set 
himself down in the hammock. “ Won’t one of you 
sit for me ?” he asked. “ I felt the fires of genius burn 
when I arose this morning, and so I flew over here to 
find an inspiration.” 

“Where was Miss Cora?” Barbara asked, a trifle 
sarcastically. 

“ She was — let me see — she was trimming a hat, I 


222 


HER VERY BEST 


believe, when I left. But that has nothing to do with 
the present subject. Will you sit, Miss Barbara? 

“ What will you do if I consent?’’ 

‘‘ I will — let me consider— I will keep off the goats 
the next time we all go out sketching.” 

“ That is a mean reminder of past obligations.” 

So it is ; then I’ll propose something entirely new ; 

I will take you out sailing.” 

'' Oh, will you ? Then I will sit for you.” 

“ I didn’t say when I would do it.” 

“ Mean again.” 

“ But I meant this evening.” 

‘‘ Oh!” 

“ Miss Bromley, aren’t you going to take advantage 
of this opportunity for making a sketch? I shall try 
oils this time.” 

Barbara will sit for me at any time,” returned 
Isabel. “ I have a book, and will not disturb you ; 
besides, we were sketching all the morning.” 

He looked up a little hurt at her very icy tone, but 
his good-humor asserted itself, and he gave himself 
up to his work, singing snatches of songs and chatting 
gayly to Barbara. Mr. V andermeer ought to be 
here,” he said. ‘‘Where is he?” 

“ Somewhere out West,” w’as the reply. 

“ He is a good sailor. I wish we had him here to 
go with us. Is your brother fond of the water?” 

“ He is fond of any kind of sport when he is in a 
good-humor, but when he has a mood you might offer 
him the delights of a Mohammedan Paradise and he 
would scowl at the houris and turn his back on Ma- 
homet.” 


AN ACCIDENT 


223 


“ And to-day ?” 

He, unfortunately, has a mood.” 

“ Then we won’t ask him. A little more to the left. 
Miss Barbara. Miss Bromley doesn’t know what she 
is missing. I am afraid she has a mood, too.” 

Isabel’s lips curled in quiet contempt, and she gave 
a little supercilious lifting of her eyebrows. “ The 
idea of his daring to comment upon my actions,” was 
what the expression conveyed to Barbara. 

After an hour’s work Mr. Merrill threw down his 
brush, crumpled up his sketch, and declared that he 
could not restrain his impatience to get out on the 
water. “ I’ll just get on my wheel and see what I 
can find in the way of a boat,” he told them. “ I will 
be back before long, and if you will be ready to go, 
we can start at once.” 

“Who be ready?” Barbara asked. 

“ All of you : Miss Bromley and your brother, if 
he cares to go, and yourself. I’m sorry my sketch 
proved so unsatisfactory; it showed I needed an in- 
spiration that I did not have.” 

“ Now, Isabel,” said Barbara, when he was out of 
hearing, “did you hear? You failed to provide the 
inspiration, and I sat for that whole long hour all for 
nothing.” 

“/ failed to provide inspiration? Very likely, in- 
deed. He has probably had a tiff with Miss Cora, and 
is in a befuddled state of mind.” 

“ What makes you say that ?” 

“ Because. You heard what she said yesterday. I 
think she invited us there solely to show us that Mr. 


224 


HER VERY BEST 


Merrill was her special property, and that we need not 
try to poach upon her preserves.” 

“ I don’t believe it.” 

After what she said in the studio ? Besides, you 
did not hear what she said to me later.” 

“ What?” 

“ Her words were, ‘ You know how it is with 
Cousin Lawrie and me, but of course he is not in a 
position to marry.’ ” 

“ Humph ! rather ambiguous. Anyhow, he doesn’t 
look at her as he does at you.” 

Isabel leaned forward. ‘‘ What do you mean ?” 

He certainly gives you the most devouring glances. 
I can see, especially when I am sitting for him and 
have nothing to do but watch his expressions.” 

“ Purely your imagination, my dear. Miss Cora 
has given me proof enough of his devotion to her. 
We’ll not agitate the subject. I am only sorry that 
it is not Miss Marian on whom his affections are set. 
I should respect him more if he had chosen a girl with 
a really fine character.” 

“ It is queer how fine men so often have their heads 
turned by a merely pretty girl,” said Barbara, thought- 
fully. 

“ Poor beauties ! One would suppose they were all 
worthless butterflies.” 

“ I know one who isn’t, and she’s not ten feet off.” 

“ You dear flatterer, I wasn’t fishing; for you know 
I am not a beauty in my own estimation. I don’t 
admire my special style.” 

But I do, and so does Roger, and, I repeat it, so 
does Mr. Lawrence Merrill. A beautiful woman, who 


AN ACCIDENT 


225 


is also a good one, can be an immense power, my dear, 
and that’s what you will prove. Look ! What is that 
coming?” 

A wagon. Some supplies from town, I suppose.” 

“ But it is coming so slowly, and, oh, Isabel, see !” 

They ran hastily down the steps, to be met by two 
men, who had alighted from the wagon, which had 
stopped a little distance away. 

I beg your pardon, ladies,” said one of the men, 
but does this young gentleman belong here? We 
saw him lying at the foot of the hill. He must have 
taken a header from his wheel. We found the handle- 
bar broken.” 

“ A young gentleman ? Here ? Oh, can it be 
Roger?” cried Barbara. But Isabel, with white lips, 
whispered, No, it is Mr. Merrill.” 


CHAPTER IX 


A DISCLOSURE 

True enough, it was Lawrence Merrill who had 
been thrown from his wheel by the breaking of the 
handle-bar, and who lay stunned and bleeding on the 
roadside, to be picked up by the first passers-by. He 
was lifted tenderly into the house, and Roger was de- 
spatched for a doctor. Aunt Thankful’s angular maid, 
Zerviah, came sternly forward at sound of the commo- 
tion. What were those foolish chits of girls up to, 
in Miss Ray’s absence? she wondered. But at sight 
of the still, white face, dappled with blood, she was 
efficiency itself, and took matters into her own hands. 

Carry him up-stairs, into the last room on the 
right ; that is the quietest,” she said. “ I don’t believe 
he is so much hurt if his in’ards is all right, and I 
guess they are. Just you git away. Miss Barbary, I’ll 
bring him round.” And, indeed, in a few moments 
her patient opened his eyes and looked blankly at his 
nurse. He’s not in his right mind yet,” continued 
Zerviah. “ He must have fell on his head, and he’s 
sort of off like. Don’t be skeered ; he’s far from bein’ 
a corpse.” 

Is he much hurt ?” Isabel asked, anxiously. 

No, child, I d’know as he is ; but then I d’know as 
he ain’t. It’ll take a doctor to tell if all his bones is 
sound.” 

They were still ministering to him when the doctor 
226 


A DISCLOSURE 


227 


arrived and pronounced a broken collar-bone the worst 
of his injuries, unless the blow which he had received 
upon the head should develop a more serious condi- 
tion. “ He must be carefully watched,’’ he told them, 
after having set the bone, “ and if he seems much 
worse, send for me. He should not be moved for 
some time. I will call again in the morning. He will 
be likely to have a high fever to-night. Shall you 
need a nurse?” 

Zerviah shook her head. I’m used to nursin’,” she 
said. “ I reckon I can judge about him, and, at any 
rate. Miss Thankful will be back on the six-o’clock 
train, and she’s as good as any doctor. She won’t 
stand any of these here hired nurses potterin’ around 
her house, givin’ orders.” 

I’ll trust him to Miss Ray,” said the doctor, 
smiling. I don’t apprehend any complications, but 
if I am needed don’t hesitate to send.” And with 
that he took his leave. 

It was about an hour later that a telegram arrived 
from Miss Thankful. She was going to remain in 
New York overnight. Some business affairs required 
her presence the first thing in the morning, and she 
might be detained till some time in the afternoon. The 
girls looked at each other in consternation. Should 
they take the responsibility of the night-watch? 

“ Ought we to send for his relatives, Barbara ?” 
Isabel questioned. 

An answering doubt showed itself in Barbara’s eyes. 

I don’t believe I could stand that girl,” she said in 
a whisper, and she would be sure to come. With 
Ro^er and Zerviah ppght to be able to get along. 


228 


HER VERY BEST 


Aunt Thankful will be back to-morrow, and I think’ 
it would be wiser to leave matters as they are till she 
comes. Do we need any more help, Zerviah?” 

“ I don’t ; maybe you do,” was the grim response. 

If I can’t set up with a sick man for one night, I 
am a poor stick. I’ve nursed day and night for six 
weeks on a stretch, but there’s Thomas Lakin and 
his wife over in the tenant house, if you ain’t sure 
about me.” 

“ We are sure, but we don’t want you to be all tired 
out.” 

‘‘If Tessy can manage to get your wittles, I can 
manage the settin’ up.” 

“ We can help Tessy, and Roger can be on hand. 
You have no idea how good and gentle a nurse he 
can be. I found that out when grandfather was ill. 
Suppose we two sit up till midnight, and then you 
take the last half of the night. How will that do?” 

Zerviah contemplatively grasped her chin with her 
long, bony fingers. “ That’ll do,” she replied, after 
a moment’s thought. “ I will lay down in the next 
room, and you can call me if you ain’t sure about 
anything.” And so they decided to arrange it. 

Leaving Zerviah to give present attention to the 
patient, the two girls went down-stairs to help the 
housemaid to prepare supper, which Roger alone 
seemed to enjoy. “ Miss Isabel, you are as white as 
a ghost,” he said. “ You were scared stiff, I believe ; 
and I tell you, when I saw them lifting Mr. Merrill 
out of that wagon I had a queer feeling myself ; but 
I’m all right now. Give her something, Barbara. If 
she cannot eat anything, she can at least drink some 


A DISCLOSURE 


229 

milk/' And pouring out a glassful, he carried it to 
her himself. “ Every drop,” he insisted. 

“ Boggie, you are a comfort,” said Isabel, as she 
handed him the empty tumbler. You really have 
a very sustaining influence. I feel less nervous al- 
ready.” 

It was a strange sensation for the two girls : to be 
watching by the bedside of this acquaintance, who sudr 
denly had acquired such importance in the household, 
and they listened gravely to Zerviah’s directions. 
“ He’s light-headed, and he’ll be likely to wander,” 
she said as she left them. “ Folks says queer things 
when they ain’t all there, but I don’t believe he’ll get 
very wild, for that stuff the doctor left seems to quiet 
him. ' Every hour,’ the bottle says. Now I’ll go and 
sleep for a spell, but you be sure to call me when it’s 
time.” 

It was then nine o’clock, and the summer twilight 
had ended. Sweet odors came in through the open 
windows, and there was a soft sound of whispering 
leaves. 

“ Isn’t it strange that he does not see nor hear the 
voices of the night?” said Barbara, taking one of Isa- 
bel’s cold hands in hers. Poor Isabel, this is a new 
experience for you. I don’t believe you would like 
to be a trained nurse.” 

She answered by a shake of the head. Words did 
not come easily just now. 

The man on the bed stirred and muttered uneasily. 
Barbara leaned over him and moved the cloths upon 
his head. “ This rubber bag of ice needs changing,” 
she said. Will you fill it, Isabel, or shall I ? Per- 


HER VERY BEST 


230 

haps I’d better do it. You sit still.” She stepped out 
upon the porch where the ice was kept, and as she 
disappeared, a little choking sob came from Isabel, 
and she slipped her cool fingers into the man’s hot 
hand, and then, for a brief moment, laid her cheek 
against it, but almost immediately she withdrew her 
hand, pulled herself up stiffly, compressed her lips, 
and sat staring across the room where a flickering 
night-lamp burned. Suppose this vigil were hers to 

keep alone, and he lying there were No, no. 

She arose to her feet. Would Barbara never come? 
What was he saying? She leaned over the bed, eager 
to catch some word of the mutterings; but nothing 
reached her ears except a confused jumble of words. 
Only once he called out, “ Hey, there !” and again it 
seemed as if he said, “ A little more to the left, 
please.” 

Presently Barbara came in with the bag of ice, 
which she adjusted, and then she resumed her place 
by the bed. Has he been quiet ?” she asked. 

“ Yes, quite so. He murmurs a little once in a 
while. Oh, Barbara !” She gave a little whimper like 
that of a hurt child, but recovered herself at once. 
“ I haven’t seen much illness, you know,” she said, 
“ and it unnerves me. I’d be a poor watcher without 
you. There, it strikes ten; he must have his medi- 
cine.” 

The first watch over, Zerviah promptly appeared, and 
the girls went to their rooms, but with Isabel it was not 
to sleep. Every movement in the room across the 
hall seemed to strike her listening ears with unusual 
force, and it was only when the first breeze of dawn 


A DISCLOSURE 


231 

stole in through her window that she sank into a 
troubled slumber. 

The doctor called while they were at breakfast, and 
pronounced the patient doing well. “ But I would 
keep him as quiet as possible, and don’t allow any 
visitors,” was his parting charge. 

We shall have to send the Marvins word, I sup- 
pose,” said Barbara, when the doctor had departed. 

“ I’ll go,” Roger promptly offered. 

Barbara laughed. Can we spare him, Isabel? We 

shall have to relieve Zerviah now, and On second 

thought, yes, Roger, you’d best go. Don’t make the 
matter too serious, and say What shall he say?” 

I’ll make it all right. I’ll say that Mr. Merrill 
tumbled from his wheel, but that he is getting along 
all right, and they needn’t bother about him. Will 
that do?” 

Yes, but they’ll be sure to ask particulars.” 

“ Then I’ll say that he bumped his head and is a 
little out of sorts.” 

“ I’ll write a note to Mrs. Marvin,” Barbara con- 
cluded, after some thought ; “ that will be best.” 

So, Roger was despatched with the note, and before 
he returned Aunt Thankful made her appearance. 
News that a sick man was under her roof did not in 
the least disturb her. In fact, she was in her element, 
and assumed her position of head nurse as promptly 
as possible. “ I wouldn’t have stayed a minute, if I 
had known, business or no business,” she said. “ You 
girls look all fagged out. Tell me all about it, and 
then go lie down. Zerviah and I can put this through. 
I’ll send for Nancy Mann; she knows just what to do 


232 


HER VERY BEST 


in the kitchen, and everything will go on without a 
hitch. Tessy could never get along without an older 
head. Where’s Roger ?” 

“ Gone to tell the Marvins.” 

‘‘ Well, I hope they won’t all come streaking over 
here. I’ll turn every one of ’em out neck and heels. 
It’s my house, and I’ll have nobody in it that I don’t 
want, relations or no relations. Mustn’t see company? 
Of course he mustn’t; I know that. Mrs. Marvin 
won’t want to nurse him. I can answer for her well 
enough; she will be glad to leave that to us. She 
isn’t able to do it, in the first place, and in the second, 
she can’t. As for those girls, well. I’ll not have them 
dangling around.” And energetically tying on an 
ample white apron, Aunt Thankful took her way to 
the sick-room. 

For a week the door was barred against all in- 
truders. Neither Barbara nor Isabel were allowed to 
poke their noses inside the room. True to their ex- 
pectations, Miss Cora made her appearance, and 
promptly tried to establish herself in the house. ‘‘ It 
is my right,” she said, plaintively, and so insisted upon 
taking her place by her cousin’s side that Aunt Thank- 
ful was sent for to settle the matter. She viewed Miss 
Cora with a piercing eye. “ Have you had large ex- 
perience in nursing?” she asked. 

“ No, but I could do it, I am sure, and I ought to.” 

“ Why?” 

“ Because he is my cousin, and — and — because ” 

“ You are a silly, sentimental goose. There is no 
‘ ought’ in the matter. You don’t know what you’re 
talking about. I’ve my hands full now, and I don’t 



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A DISCLOSURE 


2a3 

want any more in the house for my servants to wait 
on. I wouldn’t trust you to nurse a sick dog, much 
less a grown man. No, Miss Cora, go ’long home, 
and trim up your hats and embroider stoles; that’s 
the kind of work you’re best suited to. If your mother 
insists upon coming, that is another thing; but she is 
not needed, and there is no use in her bothering her- 
self about it. You will not get so much as the point 
of your shoe inside that sick-room, unless by the 
doctor’s orders.” And Miss Cora, between disap- 
pointment and indignation, took her departure. 

But it was not long before all sorts of offerings 
came from the Marvins, — fruit, flowers, delicate 
dishes. “ He can’t eat ’em,” said Aunt Thankful. 
And she turned the dainties over to Roger and Helen, 
placed the fruit on the table, and the flowers in the 
hall. “ He is in no state to be bothered about such 
things,” she declared, “ and it’s too bad the Marvins 
waste their money on them. Although they come in 
Miss Cora’s name, she hasn’t a thing to do with them, 
and it would be false pretence to say so. I’ll not be 
party to deceit, so there !” 

At length came the information that Mr. Merrill 
was going to sit up, and if Isabel and Barbara wanted 
to peep at him for five minutes they might do so. But 
over them, a grim warden, stood Aunt Thankful, her 
eye on the clock, and the short interview was not a 
very satisfactory one. 

Isabel’s lips quivered as she came from the room. 
“ He looks so thin and pale,” she said. 

“ That is nothing,” Barbara returned. “ He is get- 
ting along^:' beautifully. He will be down-stairs in a 


HER VERY BEST 


234 

few days.” And so he was; by that time taking 
matters in his own hands and insisting upon leaving 
his room. 

“ ril not be cooped up any longer, Miss Ray,” he 
said. ‘‘ With this glorious summer passing, how can 
you have the heart to keep me within four walls ? Fll 
make love to Zerviah, and get her to let me down from 
the window, if you refuse to let me out in a better 
way.” 

The idea of his making love to Zerviah tickled Aunt 
Thankful’s sense of humor, and she consented to his 
going down for a short time. 

“I know just why you are so hard on me; you 
hate to give me up,” said the young man, saucily. 
“ Dear Miss Thankful, you have been so good to me,” 
he added, more seriously. “ I wonder what I can 
ever do to show you how grateful I am.” He held 
out a thin hand. 

“ Tut, tut,” said Aunt Thankful ; I’d have done 
the same for any one who came to grief at my very 
door. Don’t waste your gratitude, my young man. 
Here, now, go slowly. Mind those steps.” And she 
piloted him carefully down-stairs to where Barbara 
and Isabel stood to welcome him. 

“ This is something like,” he declared, when he was 
established in a comfortable chair on the porch. By 
the way. Miss Barbara, I am reminded that I promised 
to take you sailing the last time I remember being 
out here. I have not yet offered my apologies for 
breaking my engagement.” 

“ The breaking that you did was ample excuse,” she 


A DISCLOSURE 


235 

replied, merrily. However, we will have that sail 
yet. Isabel ” But Isabel had left them. 

“ I didn’t suppose that Miss Bromley would still 
be here,” said Mr. Merrill. “ I am glad of having 
the opportunity of thanking you both for all you did 
for me. Zerviah has told me about it.” 

“ It was very little that we did, but that little we 
were glad to do. Yes, Isabel has stayed longer than 
she at first intended. Her parents remained longer 
on their trip than they expected, but she has decided 
to go to-morrow to New York, and from there will go 
to Mackinaw to join Mr. and Mrs. Bromley.” 

To-morrow?” 

“Yes; I shall miss her so much that I do not like 
to think about it. Mr. Merrill, I promised your cousin. 
Miss Cora Marvin, that I would ask when you would 
like her to come over to see you. She has been very 
attentive, and has come, or sent, to inquire after you 
nearly every day.” 

“ They are all very kind.” 

“Yes; for some time they sent you all sorts of 
dainties, which Aunt Thankful would not allow you 
to have.” 

“ Yes, so she told me. Marian is a famous little 
cook, as I can well attest.” 

“ But it was Miss Cora who sent them.” 

“ Yes ; so I suppose, but Marian did the preparing, 
I well know.” 

“ Shall I send word to Miss Cora that you are ready 
to see her?” 

“ I see no reason for it.” 

Barbara looked up quickly. “ Why, are you sure ?” 


236 her very best 

She stopped a trifle confused. “ I promised, you 
see.” 

She will be over here, no doubt, some day soon, 
and I can see her without your taking the trouble to 
send word.” 

“ It will be no trouble.” 

“ But there is no need. Fm not specially anxious to 
see Cora. Fm not ready to resume my work yet.” 
He smiled a little wistfully. 

Barbara had no reply to make. 

“ What makes you so positive that I am anxious to 
see Cora ?” he asked, after a pause. “ Fd really like 
to know. Miss Barbara. Your manner implies some- 
thing unexpressed. You are too honest, you see, to 
hide anything.” 

Barbara looked confused. ‘‘We thought — I thought 
— Miss Cora implied that ” 

“We were sentimentally interested in one another? 
It’s a little way she has. You mustn’t mind it. I 
don’t. She makes a stunning model, and I am very 
glad to find that sitting for me is not disagreeable to 
her; but she knows perfectly well, and always has 
known, that my feeling for her is that of one cousin 
for another. That may seem a very blunt way of 
putting it, but to be consi(Jered the object of her special 
devotion would rather amuse me, if, in this instance, 
it didn’t annoy me. Last year she set her seal upon 
a young man who boarded next door, so I am in- 
formed, and when I arrived this summer she had in 
tow the new assistant of the church which the family 
attend, and she was spending hours over altar-cloths 
and such things. So, you see, I am not the only one 


A DISCLOSURE 


237 

who has caught her fleeting fancy. The latest comer 
is generally the favorite. Tell me, Miss Barbara, does 
Miss Bromley think as you do?” 

“ Yes, of course.” 

“ I might have known it,” he murmured to himself. 
Then he leaned his head wearily on his hand. 

I am afraid this coming down-stairs has been too 
much excitement for you,” said Barbara, solicitously; 
you are tired.” 

No, I’m not tired of anything but of being so 
beastly poor,” he answered, savagely. 


CHAPTER X 

FOR OLD lover's SAKE 

Isabel did take her departure the next day, but 
there was a beautiful light in her eyes as she bade Bar- 
bara good-by. The latter had repeated to her the con- 
versation with Mr. Merrill, and it seemed to Isabel 
as if there were a new glory in the summer. '' And 
to think that I must go while you can stay here,” she 
said to her friend. 

'' I will take your place,” returned Barbara, laugh- 
ing. “ Fm sure Fd much rather go to Mackinaw than 
stay here.” 

“ I cannot understand that,” Isabel responded, 
shaking her head. 

“ ‘ June were twice June could I breathe it with 
thee,’ ” Barbara quoted. Never mind, dear, it will 
soon be autumn again, and we shall all be back again 
in New York.” 

Isabel paused in the act of putting something in 
her trunk, and gazed thoughtfully out of the window. 
Then she said, with a sigh, ‘‘ Fm afraid there are 
breakers ahead, Barbara. But I’ll not borrow trouble,” 
she added. 

The summer fled quickly and quietly. Mr. Mer- 
rill soon left Miss Ray’s house, but he still occupied a 
warm place in her heart, and the good lady hinted to 
Barbara that she would not frown upon an attachment 
between her niece and her late patient. “ You children 
238 


FOR OLD LOVE’S SAKE 


239 

will get what I have/’ she told her, and Mr. Merrill 
says that this would be an ideal home for an artist.” 

You dear auntie,” Barbara answered. “ I hope I 
may be old and gray before you give up your earthly 
home, and as for Mr. Merrill, well, I think his affec- 
tions are placed elsewhere.” 

And very foolishly. Isabel’s parents would never 
consent to her marrying a poor artist, and the poor 
artist has too much pride and too much good sense 
to marry a wife until he can support her in comfort. 
So, put that in your pipe and smoke it.” 

Aunt Thankful,” said Barbara, her eyes full of 
mirth, “ I believe you’d stand by and be an aider 
and abettor in stealing Isabel’s true love from her.” 

Aunt Thankful looked quite abashed for a moment. 
That view of the case had not presented itself to her, 
but she spoke up spiritedly, At all events, I don’t 
want you to marry that young Blumenbach.” A vivid 
blush came to Barbara’s cheeks as Aunt Thankful eyed 
her narrowly. “ I believe you mean to,” she con- 
tinued. 

With a little dignified air, Barbara got up and 
walked away. ‘‘ I have no announcements to make,” 
she said, and a few days after she returned to New 
York, for it was in September that the conversation 
took place. 

Isabel wrote that she was counting the days till she 
should return. The Gardners wrote from the coast 
of Maine that it was getting too cold for them, and 
Mr. Adams had already returned and was making 
preparations for his school work. But before Isabel 
took her place in the class came the news to Barbara 


240 


HER VERY BEST 


that Mr. Bromley's finances had been severely affected 
by a failure in Wall Street. 

It was Miss Thankful who brought the news. She 
appeared one morning while Barbara was at break- 
fast. “ Aunt Thankful is here and wants to see you 
at once,” announced Helen. Dolly must have been 
harnessed up last night for her to have reached town 
so soon.” 

“ You go to her, daughter,” Mr. Palmer said. “ I 
will come in a moment.” 

“ It is Barbara she wants specially to see ; she said 
so,” Helen informed them. And Barbara at once arose 
to go to her aunt. 

‘‘Well, well,” said Miss Ray; ‘‘I had my break- 
fast two hours ago. Eight o'clock, and you have not 
finished yours.” 

“ But I have.” 

“ Well, never mind. See here, Barbara, Lewis 
Bromley has gone all to pieces.” 

“What! Isabel's father?” 

“ Yes ; I heard it last night.” She sat for a moment 
lost in thought, then she said, “ I am not given to 
interference, but I think in this instance that I shall 
act upon my impulse. You remember Lawrence Mer- 
rill?” 

“ Why, yes, of course.” 

“ Of course. Well, the lad is a good lad, and he is 
an honorable one, too. He is fond of Isabel, but I 
told him that it was suicidal for a young artist to 
saddle himself with the heavy responsibility of mar- 
riage, even supposing that Isabel were willing to marry 
him. I told him that it would be a wrong to the girl 


FOR OLD LOVE’S SAKE 


241 


no less than to himself to marry before he was sure 
of a good living, and so he has not been near her, nor 
written to her. I saw him last night. In fact, I have 
seen him nearly every day of late, and I have 

learned ” There was a little twitching of the 

usually firm mouth. I have learned that Anthony 
Baird is his great-uncle.” 

Anthony Baird ? and who ” 

“Never mind; I forget sometimes. You couldn't 
know, of course. I knew him when we were young. 
Forty years ago, and I have not seen him since. Forty 
years, and he was just the age of Lawrence then. To- 
day I am going to see him, and I want you to go with 
me. He hasn’t been fair to that boy. The lad has 
talent, and has a right to order his life. Anthony 
should not have brought him up in luxury and then 
have turned him off, and I mean to tell him so. The 
boy is better worth his uncle’s consideration than any 
one else belonging to him, if you except Marian Mar- 
vin, and I won’t have all that money going to the 
Marvins, as it surely will.” She was talking half to 
herself, Barbara saw, and she seemed so nervous and 
excited that the girl wondered, although, as she went 
on, the truth began to dawn on her. 

“ You will go with me, Barbara?” 

“ Now?” 

“ Yes ; go get your hat. I wish I could say, An- 
thony, it is my niece and your nephew who need us; 
but there, never mind, go along.” 

Barbara went up-stairs full of curiosity. Aunt 
Thankful was greatly stirred, the girl could see that; 
but when she rejoined the good woman, she did not 
16 


242 


HER VERY BEST 


refer to what had just been said, but only told Bar- 
bara that she had come in a cab, and would go on her 
errand in the same. She gave the driver an address, 
and they were taken uptown.” 

“ Mr. Baird? Yes, madam, he is at home, but con- 
fined to his room at present,” they were told by the 
man who opened the door to them. 

“ Ask him if he will see Mistress Thankful Ray,” 
said Aunt Thankful, with dignity. 

The man disappeared, but in a moment returned with 
the message that Mr. Baird would be pleased to see 
Miss Ray, if she would pardon his receiving her up- 
stairs in his sitting-room. Aunt Thankful gave a 
quick glance at Barbara, then bade her follow her, 
and they were ushered up-stairs to where, ensconced 
in a big chair, was a rather portly, bald, old gentle- 
man. 

Miss Ray did not stand upon ceremony. “ Well, 
Anthony,” she said, in a matter-of-fact tone, “ you 
didn’t expect to see me this morning, I know.” 

Mr. Baird turned his head quickly and took in the 
neat little figure, quaintly but richly dressed. “ Thank- 
ful Ray,” he said. After all these years ?” 

Thankful Ray it is and no one else ; and this is 
my niece, Barbara Palmer.” 

Please sit down, ladies. You will pardon an in- 
valid for not rising.” 

“ I suppose it is gout that has laid you up,” Aunt 
Thankful remarked. 

“ You were always good at guessing. It is just 
that.” 


FOR OLD LOVES SAKE 


243 

“ You haven’t a notion why I have come, I’ll venture 
to say.” 

No ; if my recollection serves me, you vowed the 
last time we met that you would never see my face 
again.” 

“ Well, it isn’t quite the same face,” returned Aunt 
Thankful, with a humorous twinkle. “ I know mine 
isn’t. However, that is neither here nor there. I 
came to see if you had made your will.” 

Mr. Baird stared, for a moment quite startled out 
of all politeness. 

“ Yes, that is just why I came.” Aunt Thankful 
emphasized each word with a tap on the floor with her 
umbrella. 

“ Yes, I have made my will,” said Mr. Baird, slowly. 

“ And cut oflf Lawrence Merrill without a penny, 
I dare say. It would be like your dogged obstinacy.” 

“ Thankful !” He flushed a little under his pallor. 

“ Oh, yes ; I am not afraid to say it any more than 
I ever was. Were you or were you not obstinate forty 
years ago?” 

Perhaps I was. If I had not been ” 

Aunt Thankful raised a protesting hand. “ We will 
not follow up the subject. I think I have been full 
of gratitude more than once to you since then. I am 
a very contented woman, and once or twice have felt 
like sending you a note expressing my thanks.” 

‘‘For what?” 

“ For your obstinacy.” 

Mr. Baird gave a little chuckle. “ You haven’t 
changed one whit; not one whit. Come over here 
by the window. Thankful, and let me look at you.” 


244 


HER VERY BEST 


“No, I will not. I don’t bear inspection. What I 
want to know is about that will. Have you left any- 
thing to the boy you reared delicately, and with whom 
you quarrelled because he wanted to be happy in his 
own way and couldn’t be in yours?” 

“You know him?” 

“Yes; he is a good lad.” And she proceeded to 
give an account of her acquaintance with him, Mr. 
Baird listening attentively. At the close of the re- 
cital, Aunt Thankful said, a sombre fire in her eyes, 
“ I have never asked a favor of you, Anthony Baird, 
but I think you owe it to me to do the lad justice, and 
I make my appeal for him as I would for a son of 
my own. To whom do you owe this wealth?” 

“ To my wife.” 

“ And to whom are you indebted for her ?” 

“ To you. Thankful, to you.” 

“ Then ” 

“ You shall have your way. You say that Lawrence 
wants to marry. Is this the young lady of his choice?” 
He turned to Barbara. “ Come here, my dear.” 

“ No, she is not,” Miss Ray replied. “ I wish she 
were. It is Isabel Bromley.” 

Mr. Baird started. “ Not Lewis Bromley’s 
daughter ?” 

“ Yes. Now do you see why I have come? I follow 
the reports of the money market pretty closely, and 

I know ” She glanced at Barbara. “ Mr. Bromley 

has been a heavy loser,” she said, quietly. 

The man nodded, but said no word. 

“ And yesterday’s tidings brought you news of an 
increase in your gains.” 


FOR OLD LOVES SAKE 


245 


Thankful, what would you imply ?” 

“ I would imply nothing. I simply make the state- 
ment that if you desire justice, as I believe in your 
heart you do, you will do something for Lawrence 
Merrill.” 

“ I will. I promise you. Send him to me.” 

To-day?” 

‘‘ As soon as you will.” 

“We are not likely to meet again, Anthony,” said 
Aunt Thankful, rising. “ Thank you, and God bless 
you.” There was a little tender inflection in her 
voice, and she went toward him, holding out her hand. 

He took it and held it closely for a moment. “ Good- 
by, and God bless you. Thankful,” he said. “ You 
will surely come to my boy’s wedding?” 

“ Perhaps,” she replied, smiling. “ Come, Barbara, 
we must go and find Isabel. I want to take you both 
home with me.” 

, They went down through the quiet house, leaving 
the old man sitting in the sunshine. Aunt Thankful 
first proceeded to a telegraph office, from which she 
sent a despatch. Then they drove out Fifth Avenue 
and stopped at Isabel’s door. “ I’ll wait here,” said 
Aunt Thankful ; “ you go in and tell Isabel to meet 
us at the four-o’clock train this afternoon. Don’t tell 
her where we’ve been.” 

There was a wistful look on Isabel’s face as she 
met Barbara. “ I knew you would come, dear,” she 
said. 

“ I only just heard.” 

“ Of course. Every one knew before we did. I 
don’t think it is so terrible, but poor mamma takes it 


HER VERY BEST 


246 

dreadfully to heart, although the state of affairs isn't 
so bad as we at first thought. Dear Uncle Henry has 
thrown himself in the breach, and while he and papa 
will be financially crippled for a time, they hope even- 
tually to save a tidy sum, but just now we must con- 
sider the greater part of papa's fortune gone. I don't 
care much, and I think that is a great comfort to 
papa." 

“ Could you leave home for a little visit to Aunt 
Thankful?" And Barbara delivered Miss Ray's mes- 
sage. 

Isabel considered it. Yes, I think I could go. Papa 
and Uncle Henry will be busy at the office till very 
late, and mamma has my Aunt Gertrude with her. 
I should like so much to go with you." 

“ It will do you good to get away from all the vex- 
ing questions." 

“ I will see what mamma says." She returned with 
the word that her mother had urged her going, and 
that she would be at the station at the hour mentioned. 
Then Barbara left her, and was glad when her aunt 
proposed her going directly home, for her thoughts 
were in a whirl, and she wanted a quiet moment to 
herself. 

First, there were Aunt Thankful and Mr. Baird. 
There had evidently been a romance in that direction, 
and he had married a rich wife who had died some 
years ago. Barbara gathered that much. Perhaps 
Aunt Thankful would tell her more about it some of 
these days. Then Lawrence and Isabel. How strange 
that Aunt Thankful should be the one to make the 
way easy for them! Dear Isabel! Barbara thrilled 


FOR OLD LOVE’S SAKE 


247 

at the thought that happiness was in store for her at 
the very moment when trouble had come to her home. 
And last, Mr. Vandermeer. ,He had sacrificed himself 
for another. He was in the city. It had been many 
weeks since Barbara had seen him. She went to her 
desk and took from it a little sketch which Isabel had 
made in pencil upon the back of an envelope. It rep- 
resented Barbara and Mr. Vandermeer looking over 
a book together, and was labelled, “ A souvenir of the 
Boston Library.” 

“ It looks like him,” said Barbara, half aloud. “ How 
tiny Isabel has made me look! I wonder if there is 
that difference in our height, and I wonder, oh, I 
wonder about so many things. Suppose I should fall 
in love; I, who always insist that I will not. No, I 
will not. I don’t want to, I don’t want to.” She 
thrust the little sketch back into her desk, and began 
to make her preparations for going to Miss Ray’s 
house. 

It was a mellow autumn day, and that night was 
a bit frosty, so that Aunt Thankful had a fire built 
upon the hearth. She seemed in a very subdued mood, 
and had surprised Isabel by meeting her with a kiss 
and a loving embrace as she came down to tea. “ They 
say that troubles never come singly,” she said ; “ but, 
my child, that other saying, ‘ every cloud has a silver 
lining,’ is much truer. I hope this will prove to be 
a happy visit for you.” 

Isabel had not mentioned Lawrence Merrill, but 
Barbara knew, by the way she lingered at the open 
door of the room in which he had been ill, that she 
had not forgotten; but neither was quite prepared 


HER VERY BEST 


248 

for the surprise which Aunt Thankful had in store 
for them. Not long after they had established them- 
selves before the open fire in the library, the heavy 
knocker on the front door fell with two or three sharp 
raps, and Mr. Merrill walked in. He went first to 
Miss Thankful and gripped her hand hard, and then 
he turned to Isabel, but theirs was an embarrassed 
greeting. A little after Aunt Thankful declared that 
she was in a mood for some music. Would Barbara 
sing some old, old, songs for her ? And from a corner 
in the drawing-room she unearthed some old music- 
books, then sat herself down to the tinkling piano and 
played the accompaniments, while Barbara’s young 
voice rose and fell in the old-time melodies : “ Believe 
me if all those endearing young charms,” Joys that 
we’ve tasted,” and “ Long, long ago.” 

Aunt Thankful’s own bright eyes were dimmed as 
Barbara sang, but to the two sitting before the fire the 
songs spoke of a joy just begun, while only the echo 
sounded in the ears of the strong, brave woman, who, 
for love’s sake, had sacrificed her girlhood’s dream. 


CHAPTER XI 


IN A BLIZZARD 

Therefore it was that Aunt Thankful’s prophecy 
came true, for Isabel returned home wrapped in the 
light which had descended from the cloud’s silver 
lining. “Isn’t it strange that I did not know?” she 
said to Barbara. “ It was all on account of money, 
you know. Lawrence wouldn’t tell me because he felt 
that it would be wrong, and now his uncle has told 
him he will give him a check for twenty thousand 
dollars the day we are married. Isn’t it good of him ? 
But even without that I think we could have managed, 
for Lawrence has better prospects all the time. He 
has a lot of illustrating to do, and one or two portraits 
to paint, and so, — oh, Barbara dear, did you ever 
think I would be such a goose? I, who meant to live 
for art.” 

“ You will still be doing that. I hope you will be 
very, very happy, Isabel, and be an inspiration and a 
help.” 

“ I hope I shall be, but I do not expect my pathway 
will be all roses ; one can never look for that in this 
world. And married life is full of pitfalls, I well 
know; at least, it is not a life without heavy respon- 
sibilities and sacrifices.” 

“ Yes, it is quite true; but if there is love and re- 
spect on both sides, it is probably a happier life than 
a single one. I suppose a purely selfish person could 

249 


HER VERY BEST 


250 

never be happily married, because there must be some 
giving up.” 

“ And I doubt if a very independent one could be 
content ; your Aunt Thankful, for instance.” 

“ Dear Aunt Thankful,” Barbara said, thoughtfully. 
She would guard Aunt Thankful’s secret, as she had 
been requested to do. Isabel should never know to 
whom she owed her happiness. 

“ I shall tell May Gardner at once, and Lawrence 
is going to see papa. I know he will consent when 
he knows about Mr. Baird, but I shall have to request 
Uncle Henry’s good offices in winning mamma over. 
She has set her heart on my making a great match, 
and she thinks artists are not much better than loafers. 
If she could know how Lawrence has made his way 
alone, and how much pluck he has, she might feel 
different.” 

They were on their way to the city, having left Aunt 
Thankful peacefully content at the result of her efforts. 
“ But don’t you marry that Karl Blumenbach,” she 
whispered to Barbara. 

“ Whom shall I marry, then ?” Barbara asked, 
smiling. 

‘‘ You needn’t marry any one. You will be full as 
well off not to. I am sure I am, and better off than 
most.” 

“ You need have no fears for me,” Barbara returned. 
“ I will consult you. Aunt Thankful, when I think 
myself in danger.” And so she went back to the city 
to go to work with such good result that one of her 
studies was hung at the next exhibition. 

The way was made smooth for Isabel’s marriage in 


IN A BUZZARD 


251 

the spring. Mrs. Bromley had given her consent when 
Isabel suggested that her leaving home would be suffi- 
cient excuse for the breaking up of the Bromley’s 
expensive establishment, and that she thought a great 
show wedding would be in very poor taste. “ So, 
we’ll just be quietly married at Easter, and will go 
abroad, and you, mamma, can come over with papa 
in the summer, perhaps. Then, when you come back 
you can take an apartment or board at one of the up- 
town hotels, and all will be much better than if you 
tried to keep on here with insufficient means.” And 
Mrs. Bromley was persuaded. 

The announcement of Isabel’s engagement created 
quite an excitement among the girls at the art school. 
“ I knew it/’ said Madge Delorme. “ I could tell that 
day, last spring, that they were dreadfully smitten. 
I never saw Isabel take the trouble to make herself 
quite so fascinating to any other man.” 

“ And how about you, Miss Barbara ?” asked Elsie 
Jordan. “ I have heard rumors.” 

“ Rumors about me ? I hope they were in connec- 
tion with my exhibition picture. Do tell me that some 
one intends to buy it.” 

“ I’m afraid I can’t do that, but I can tell you that 
certain persons have marked the attentions of a very 
blond young man. What has become of him?” 

“ I suppose you mean the younger Mr. Blumenbach. 
He is out West, and my brother is with him. He is 
the son of the dear German people with whom we 
make our home, and he could not well help being seen 
with me sometimes, since we live in the same house 
and attend the same church.” Barbara spoke in a most 


252 


HER VERY BEST 


matter-of-fact way, and Elsie was satisfied. Mr. Karl 
had written quite frequently at first; pleasant newsy 
letters full of satisfactory accounts of Roger ; and Bar- 
bara was too grateful for his interest in the boy not 
to answer in kind, so that for a time the correspond- 
ence had been quite a lively one, although of late it 
had dropped off in some degree. Barbara continually 
told herself, “ I don’t want to marry any one. If I 
mean to be an artist I must give myself up heart and 
mind to my work, else I shall not succeed.” But at 
the very next moment her thoughts were liable to 
wander off to her summer’s pleasures and she would 
give a little sigh. 

During all the fall and up to midwinter she had not 
once seen Mr. Vandermeer. He was very busy, Isa- 
bel told her, and was living at a down-town hotel. 
“ He has gone into business with a vengeance. Papa 
says he has so much determination and perspicuity, 
and that he is a perfect revelation to him.” This was 
at Christmas, when Barbara showed Isabel the card 
which came with a box of long-stemmed roses, deep 
red and full of sweetness. “ It was very kind of him 
to send them when he is so busy,” was all the remark 
Barbara made to her friend, and Isabel made reply. 

It is like Uncle Henry ; he is so thoughtful about 
such things.” 

It was one winter day that Barbara reached home 
in a blinding snow-storm. It had been threatening 
when she started out in the morning, and by noon 
was snowing heavily, while later the wind had arisen 
and the storm was fast assuming the character of a 


IN A BLIZZARD 


253 

blizzard. “ Where is grandfather ?” Barbara asked 
Helen when she reached home. 

“ He went over to Mr. Eaton’s to see about some 
piece of music. He said he would be back by six.” 

He went in all this storm ? He shouldn’t have 
done such a thing; and, Helen, he didn’t wear his 
heavy muffler, nor his thickest gloves. Oh, dear! I 
am afraid he will take cold. You are sure he will be 
there till nearly six ?” 

“ He said so.” 

Then I shall go and take this to him. He must 
not go without having his throat well wrapped up.” 

It wasn’t so bad when he started; it seemed just 
like a moderate storm. He was going somewhere else 
first. I don’t think you ought to go out again, Barby.” 

“ I will wrap up warm, and I will bring him back 
with me, for he isn’t as sure-footed as he used to be.” 
And she started forth, facing the snow with deter- 
mination. 

Her walk was across town, for an aforetime dig- 
nified neighborhood on Second Avenue was her des- 
tination. The wind had increased in force, and drove 
the snow in whirling, cutting particles against the 
girl’s face. I will go on till a car overtakes me,” 
she told herself. But it seemed that the heavy snow 
had stopped street-car traffic, for no car came in sight, 
and she struggled on, each moment finding it more 
difficult to make her way. Yet her thoughts were 
busy. The prospect of Isabel’s approaching marriage 
brought up the subject of her own future. Mr. Adams 
had told her that morning that a position in the South 
was open for her if she would like to teach in a girl’s 


HER VERY BEST 


254 

school. At first her impulse was to decline. “ I can’t 
leave grandfather,” she said, “ and Helen needs me, 
too. Perhaps I am not wise to say no,” she had added, 
after a moment’s reflection. 

“ Take a little time to consider,” Mr. Adams had 
said. “ You will not be needed till fall, and as I can 
hand in the name of some one else by Easter, you have 
time enough to decide.” And so the matter was left. 

“ I should dearly like to be independent, and per- 
haps it would be doing grandfather a greater kindness 
than if I stayed here to be a burden upon him. I could, 
perhaps, have Helen with me. Oh, dear! this is get- 
ting worse and worse.” She paused nearly breathless 
from her battling with the storm, but bent again to 
the gale, and pushed on. Her progress was slow, and 
she began to fear that she would not reach her grand- 
father before he should have started for home. “If 
he will only get absorbed in some music with Mr. 
Eaton, it will be all right,” she told herself, as she 
walked on, panting. 

She was not very familiar with the neighborhood, 
and paused on a corner to get her bearings, but the 
whirling snow blinded her, and she stood uncertain 
of the right direction. “ But I can’t stand still,” she 
decided, and again she trudged on. It was growing 
colder and colder; the wind howled around corners 
and swirled the snow into drifts. Barbara thrust her 
hands into her grandfather’s gloves and tied his muf- 
fler around her ears, but it seemed as if the cold pene- 
trated to her very marrow, and she could only walk 
a few steps at a time without stopping to rest. There 
were scarcely any persons to be seen in this quiet 



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IN A BLIZZARD 


255 

vicinity, and darkness was fast descending, although 
the street lamps twinkled faintly through a blurred 
atmosphere. Barbara had now but one thought: to 
concentrate her energies upon reaching some place of 
shelter. Once she paused uncertainly before a shop, 
determining to go in. “ But I must find grandfather. 
I must — I must,” she said to herself. A few steps 
farther, and strength failed her; she sank down in 
the snow, raising a feeble cry of “ Help ! Help !” 

Just then through the scurrying snow-flakes a man 
could be seen approaching. The girl’s cry had reached 
his ears, and he stooped over the prostrate figure, 
raising her in his arms. Then with a sharp exclama- 
tion he strode through the snow-drifts, pausing only 
for a moment as if to come to some determination. 
He made his way toward a building not more than 
a block away, and before many minutes Barbara 
opened her eyes in a large room, whose drawing-tables 
and boards gave evidence of its being the office of an 
architect. A plain-looking woman was rubbing her 
cold hands, and bending over her, with anxious face, 
was Mr. Vandermeer. At sight of him Barbara began 
to cry weakly. 

‘‘ The pore dear, she’s came to,” said the woman. 
“ I’ll just get her a warm sup of something, Mr. Van- 
dermeer, sorr, an’ she’ll be all right, I think.” 

Thank you, Mrs. Dougherty. I think I would do 
that,” said Mr. Vandermeer. And then he gathered 
Barbara’s little cold hands into his. 

I am so glad to see you,” said Barbara. 

“ Are you, dear ? And you cannot know how glad I 
am that I found you.” 


HER VERY BEST 


256 

‘‘ Please tell me how it happened.” 

“ I went to your house, and was told that you had 
gone out to find your grandfather. Why did you face 
such a storm, dear child?” 

“ I was afraid grandfather would get cold. Do you 
suppose he is out in this storm ?” 

“ No ; I think he has better judgment than to brave a 
blizzard, which, though not as bad as that of several 
years ago, is bad enough.” 

“ And you went to our house? You have not been 
there in a long while.” Barbara sat up, regarding him 
wistfully. 

“ No, I have been very busy, but to-day I was in the 
neighborhood, and — you see I have been so very busy.” 

“ Yes, I know that, but ” 

“ There were other reasons, I am obliged to confess.” 

“ Were there? Was Miss Avery one of them?” 

He looked surprised. “ No, indeed ! Who told you 
so?” 

No one. Isabel said once she wondered if you were 
interested in her.” 

‘‘ No ; she had nothing to do with my reasons for 
keeping away. Barbara, did you want me to come?” 

You used to come quite often, you know, and 
grandfather was always glad to see you.” 

“ Then it was entirely on your grandfather’s ac- 
count that you wanted to see me?” 

“ Yes — No.” The last was in a whisper. 

“ What about Mr. Karl ? Didn’t you promise to 
find out something and tell me? Never mind; that 
can wait. I am not so interested to know. I will tell 
you the reason why I have not been to see you. It 


IN A BLIZZARD 


^S7 

was because I did not dare to, and the reason I came 
to-day was that I couldn’t possibly stay away any 
longer. You don’t know, little Barbara, what a fight 
I have had with myself, and how I have longed to 
see you. I know full well that I am much older than 
you, and I don’t suppose, even if Mr. Karl were safely 
disposed of, that you would consider me for a mo- 
ment, but Tell me, was there any need of my 

staying away? Shall I make you safe here now with 
Mrs. Dougherty, and leave you ? Do I trouble you by 
what I am saying?” 

No, no. Please don’t go.” 

“ If I might have the right to stay by you always, 
Barbara.” 

Yes, always. I want to tell you that ” But 

here Mrs. Dougherty appeared with a cup of steaming 
tea, and Barbara was made to drink every drop of it. 

“ The young lady will not go out again this night,” 
said Mrs. Dougherty. “ I haven’t accommodations for 
you below, miss, but I can bring up a mattress an’ 
make you comfortable here in a little room handy 
by. It ain’t used, an’ though it’s not furnished, it is 
warrum, an’ I’ve a dale of coovers I can spare, an’ I 
can serve a supper, too, sorr, hot sausages an’ perta- 
ties.” 

Mr. Vandermeer smiled. Assuredly, then. Miss 
Palmer would best stay. There is no getting any sort 
of conveyance this night, and the cars are not running. 
I am sure Miss Palmer will be quite safe with you, 
Mrs. Dougherty. See to the supper, please. And now 
I will go.” 


17 


HER VERY BEST 


258 

Mrs. Dougherty bustled off, but Barbara turned to 
him anxiously. Oh, not in this storm ?” 

“ Why, yes. I want to be satisfied that your grand- 
father is safe. Mr. Eaton does not live at any great 
distance, and I am not afraid of the snow, even if I 
don’t like dust.” 

Barbara put out a detaining hand. ‘‘ Please, that 
was what I wanted to tell you. I was so mistaken in 
you, and now I don’t believe it was the dust at all that 
you minded, for I’ve heard of all of those good, kind 
things you have been doing. Miss Wilmer ” 

“ Ah, she has told on me ?” 

“ Yes ; but please tell me, why did you hide your 
true self behind that mask of indifference? What 
made you want me to think you were a selfish, ease- 
loving creature ?” 

“ I think I was until an earnest little girl made me 
ashamed of myself. Since we are confessing, why did 
you flout me and give all your smiles to Mr. Karl ?” 

“ I don’t know. I was afraid — I didn’t know ” 

“ What?” 

That it would make any difference to you, and I 
didn’t know then that it made any difference to me.” 

“ And now ? Barbara — confound it ! there comes 
Mrs. Dougherty with the sausages. She is a good, 
kind soul, and was employed by my mother for many 
years. Now her husband is janitor here, and so you 
see why I brought you to her : it was the nearest place 
I could think of. Yes, that looks very inviting, Mrs. 
Dougherty. Please set the tray down here. Good-by, 
Barbara.” 

'' Good-by, Mr. Vandermeer.” 


IN A BLIZZARD 


259 

** Ah, but he’s the dear lad,” said Mrs. Dougherty, 
as the door closed. ‘‘ Niver wanst has he gone back 
on his wurrud, an’ ’twas him got me husband the job 
here, an’ the young gintleman what has these rooms 
is a fri’nd of his, an’ he says to me, says he, ‘ Misther 
Vandermeer’ll be a good fri’nd o’ yours,’ an’ says I, 
‘ He is that, an’ niver a pore body that he’ll not be- 
fri’nd, if he knows they’re wantin’ him. Shure,’ says 
I. An’ says he, ‘ Right you are, ma’am. I’ve knowed 
him boy an’ man this fifteen year, an’ he’s that brave 
an’ kind fur all the rings on his hands an’ his aisy way 
o’ speech.’ An’ plaze, miss, would yez care fur a b’ilet 
egg? I’ve a little hin o’ me own that lays furninst the 
coal-bin in a bit av a box I’ve fur her.” 

“ No, thank you, Mrs. Dougherty ; this is very good. 
I shall be able to make a hearty supper.” 

“ An’ you’ve the purty color cornin’ back in yer 
cheeks again. I’ll be gettin’ me own supper now, an’ 
come back for the dishes.” 

Barbara had scarcely more than finished her meal 
when Mr. Vandermeer returned with the information 
that Mr. Palmer had not thought of leaving Mr. Ea- 
ton’s after the violence of the storm had made itself 
apparent, and that he sent his love to Barbara. “ And,” 
continued Mr. Vandermeer, smiling, “ what is of great 
value to me, his blessing on us both.” 

Barbara blushed furiously. “ Oh !” she exclaimed ; 
“ Mr. Vandermeer, what have you been saying to 
him ?” 

“ What it was my duty to say, my dearest little 
girl : that I desired to marry his granddaughter, if she 
would have rne^ and I thought perhaps she would.” 


26 o 


HER VERY BEST 


Barbara turned a half-reproachful glance upon him, 
but almost immediately her honesty asserted itself, and 
she said, very quietly, I think she will.” And just 
then Mrs. Dougherty again appeared, to bear off the 
dishes. 

“ Please take good care of this young lady,” Mr. 
Vandermeer said, gravely. “ This is the future Mrs. 
Henry Vandermeer, Mrs. Dougherty, and she is very 
precious.” 

Mrs. Dougherty raised her hands in delighted sur- 
prise, and swept Barbara a courtesy. “ Hear to that !” 
she exclaimed. “ May the two o’ yez be as happy as 
if ye were in St. Peter’s pocket !” 


CHAPTER XII 


TWO WEDDINGS 

So curiously happy and so strangely placed was Bar- 
bara that night that she remained awake long after 
Mrs. Dougherty’s stentorian breathing was heard from 
the next room, where she insisted upon establishing 
herself to guard her charge. But at last the girl fell 
asleep, to be awakened in the morning by the announce- 
ment that a note had arrived from Mr. Vandermeer, 
who was at a hotel near by, and, with Mr. Palmer, 
would call in an hour, and the three would then break- 
fast together. 

A most happy occasion,” Mr. Palmer said, when 
he greeted Barbara. “ My dear child, I am well 
pleased, although at first it was something of a shock 
to me to learn that you had reached a marriageable 
age. You seem very young, my dear.” 

I am young,” returned his granddaughter. I 
don’t want to leave you for some time yet, please, 
grandfather.” 

“ Then you shall not, my child. When you are 
twenty-one we will talk of it.” 

Of all her friends, Barbara felt sure that Isabel would 
be the most pleased, yet she dreaded the meeting of 
Mr. Vandermeer’s family; she was appalled at the 
thought that she would be Mrs. Bromley’s sister-in-law 
and Isabel’s aunt. In consequence she made no sign 
of what was most concerning her, determining to wait 

261 


262 VERY BEST 

till her friend should come to her. Isabel rushed in 
one day, almost overpowering her with kisses, re- 
proaches, and expressions of delight. 

“ You dear, sly, little thing ! I am so delighted. 
Of course I know. Uncle Henry looks too absurdly 
happy for us not to guess that something had hap- 
pened, and we thought it was Miss Avery. No, I did 
not, but mamma did. I knew better, for I had been 
watching the young man, and I knew he had not been 

near her for months, but I did not dream Oh, 

Barbara, you ridiculous mite ! The idea of your being 
my aunt! I could shake you for not telling me be- 
fore.’^ 

‘‘ How could I when I did not know myself?’' 

You could have come to see me as soon as you did 
know. It has been three whole days. Or you could 
have written.” 

Barbara looked confused. ‘‘ I simply couldn’t. 
There is your mother, you know.” 

Oh, dear !” Isabel laughed merrily. “ That is an- 
other ridiculous thing about it. To think of you as 
mamma’s sister-in-law I But, Barbara, she is quite 
pleased. You know, even if you were not the dearest 
thing in the world, that the fact of your being ours 
would immediately invest you with all sorts of desira- 
ble qualities. Mamma has that happy faculty of be- 
lieving that her own bread and butter must be better 
than that belonging to any one else. She is coming to 
see you right away, she wanted me to say, and she will 
have you to dinner at once.” 

Barbara gave a little groan, and Isabel laughed. 
“ Of course, I know it will be martyrdom, you poor 


TWO WEDDINGS 


263 

dear; but it isn’t as if we were strangers, and you 
know papa 'dotes on you. What does Aunt Thankful 
say ?” 

'' She has yet to be heard from. I wrote to her yes- 
terday.” 

“ It is all so delightfully romantic. The idea of your 
being found in that snow-storm, although I know 
Uncle Henry started out to overtake you; but it was 
all very unconventional, wasn’t it?” 

“ And, in consequence, appeals to you. Yes, it cer- 
tainly was a situation out of the common, with Mrs. 
Dougherty appearing upon the scene with hot tea and 
sausages.” 

“ You know Uncle Henry is not as rich as he was ?” 

“ I know, and I am very glad. I should never have 
had the courage to marry a very rich man.” 

“ You dear unworldly thing! Oh, Barbara, you will 
not be married before I am ?” 

'' No, indeed ; not for a year or more. To think of 
it, Isabel ; we have deliberately turned our backs upon 
our chosen career.” 

I haven’t, and there will be no necessity for you to 
desert the fraternity. I mean to keep on. It will be 
delightful to go off sketching with Lawrie, and we’ll 
find some picturesque nook where we can have a little 
summer home, and where we shall expect frequent 
visits from Mr. and Mrs. Henry Vandermeer.” 

“ Don’t, please ; I am not used to it yet.” 

“ When did you begin to care for that uncle of 
mine ?” 

“ I hardly know. I think about the time we went 
to Miss Wilmer’s, and she told us how good he had 


HER VERY BEST 


264 

been to her. Yet I missed him after he left us at Aunt 
Thankful’s. One can’t tell about such things.” 

I can. I know the very minute I began to like Law- 
rence. It was when we met him in Salem. Barbara, 
did you know that Cora Marvin has married the young 
assistant after all? Poor man!” 

Barbara laughed. “ You were so jealous of her.” 

Hush I don’t remind me of that dreadful time now 
that it is all over. I am going to have Marian for one 
of my bridesmaids. Mamma insists upon there being 
at least four, besides you, dear Aunt Barbara, as my 
maid of honor.” 

Dear Aunt Barbara, indeed I Don’t you dare to 
call me that. It makes me feel a thousand years old.” 

“ There comes mamma now ; she said she would 
stop. Don’t look so scared, sweeting; she is prepared 
to do you every honor.” 

And, indeed, this was true. Mrs. Bromley was really 
unaffectedly glad to welcome Barbara into the family. 
Her late reverses had shown her that some friendships 
were of slight quality, and she was beginning to accept 
Isabel’s valuations as something better than her own. 
Aside from this, the fact that Miss Ray held position 
and property commended Barbara to Mrs. Bromley. 

Easter week saw Isabel married, and to the wedding 
came the Gardners, the Adamses, Mr. Baird, besides 
hosts of the Bromleys’ friends. But Aunt Thankful 
was not present; a short time before she started for 
Old Point, having promised herself the trip for a long 
time, she explained. Isabel was at first a little hurt at 
this seeming disaffection on the part of Miss Ray, but 
when Aunt Thankful offered her house to the newly 


TWO WEDDINGS 


265 

married couple, if they should elect to pass the honey- 
moon there, and sent them so quaint and curious a 
piece of old silver as a wedding-present, Isabel could 
no longer believe in Aunt Thankful’s lack of interest 
and affection, and was satisfied to count her absence 
as a mere whim. 

Madge Delorme, Marian Marvin, and two of Isa- 
bel’s cousins were bridesmaids, and so attractive did 
Marian look in her dainty dress that Mr. Vandermeer 
assured Barbara that she need not feel distressed at 
having jilted Mr. Karl, since the young man seemed 
likely to be consoled. Perhaps Roger’s hearty en- 
dorsement of Miss Marvin had something to do with 
her finding favor in Mr. Karl’s eyes, for Roger stur- 
dily maintained that she was the finest girl he had ever 
seen, not even excepting his own sister. “ For, you 
see, Barby is a bit independent,” he said, '' and I don’t 
think she would give up as easily as Miss Marian. I 
am inclined to think that Barby, quiet as she is, has 
staying qualities when she gets a notion in her head, 
and you see if a fellow were on the opposite side it 
might be ‘ pull Dick, pull devil.’ ” He confided this 
opinion to Mr. Karl in all innocence, and Mr. Karl, to 
whom the news of Barbara’s engagement had come as 
something of a shock, pondered over Roger’s words 
and unconsciously acted upon them, forgetting the 
truthful saying, “ A prophet is not without honor save 
in his own country and among his own kin.” 

Obedience seemed to Mr. Karl a most desirable qual- 
ity in a wife. He possessed rather rigid opinions upon 
the subject, and it is doubtful if Barbara would have 
accepted with a proper spirit the place which Mr. Karl 


266 


HER VERY BEST 


must have considered her rightful one. Marian Mar- 
vin was ready to adore, to serve, to pin absolute faith 
upon the object of her affections, and it was presumed 
would be very happy as Mrs. Karl. 

Roger received his sister's announcement with, 
“ That old fellow ! Why, he's getting bald ; and you 
don't want to marry your grandfather." 

“ Far be it from me to have such a desire," returned 
Barbara. “ And Roger, my dear, when you are thirty- 
one or two you will think yourself a mere slip of a 
boy. I have discovered that hearts know no age. I 
wouldn't have Henry a day younger." 

Roger threw back his head and laughed. You are 
far gone," he said. “ What do you think Aunt Thank- 
ful says ?" 

“ I'm sure I don't know." 

She says that a girl with your talent and with a 
possible career before her has no business to give it up 
for the uncertainty of a married life. ‘ I wouldn't do 
it,' she said." 

But this was before Isabel's marriage. It was one 
day some weeks after that Aunt Thankful came to 
Barbara one afternoon. There were traces of tears 
in the usually bright eyes, and she said, in a broken 
voice, “ Anthony Baird is dead, Barbara. Come home 
with me, child, I am very lonely. I have no children 
of my own to give me a hand when I go faltering down 
the years. You are right, Barbara : let love and home 
come first. You will go back with me, child?" 

“ Yes, of course, auntie dear." 

“ I think you will have to give Helen to me," said 
Miss Ray that evening. There is no need for your 


TWO WEDDINGS 267 

grandfather and the child to stay in New York when 
there is room here, and Helen loves the place.” 

Barbara struggled with herself for a moment. It 
was her dear desire that her home should be Helen’s. 
Mr. Vandermeer had urged it, and they had made 
many plans for the little girl, which it would be hard 
to give up. But at sight of Aunt Thankful’s tremulous 
hands and the wistful droop of her mouth, Barbara 
realized that the dear woman had suddenly begun to 
fail, and she said, Very well, auntie, if grandfather 
consents it can be easily arranged. You know that 
Mr. Karl is talking of making a home out West, and 
insists upon his parents coming out to him. Grand- 
father has been troubled about the possible change, 
and I feel sure that he will be glad to accept your sug- 
gestion, but it must be on business grounds. He would 
not be happy otherwise.” 

“ I understand that. Leave that part to us ; all you 
have to do is to yield me Helen. You needn’t fear that 
I’ll not bring her up properly.” 

“ I have no fears on that score.” 

“ And I hope she’ll not up and marry,” said Aunt 
Thankful, brightening up a little. 

“ Now, Aunt Thankful, that is a very decided fling 
at me. Do you think I shall be making a mistake?” 

“ No, child, I do not; but I shall try to equip Helen 
so that, whatever her lot in life, she will not be with- 
out resources within herself. As I said before, let love 
and home come first; but if these fail a woman, let 
her not be left without interests to fill her life. I shall 
bring Helen up to speak the truth, to abhor debt, and 


268 


HER VERY BEST 


to do with a good will whatever work the Lord has de- 
signed for her/’ 

“ And you will do well. Hark ! there is some one 
coming.” 

“ It is Henry Vandermeer, of course ; he might have 
let me have you for one evening to myself. But there, 
I will go up to my room. I have never yet failed to 
find something to occupy me.” 

“ You shall stay right here,” Barbara insisted. 
“ Shall I sing you some of those old songs that you 
like so well ?” 

Aunt Thankful shaded her face with her hand. 
“ No,” she answered in a low tone, “ not to-night.” 

Barbara went up to her and laid her soft cheek 
against the wrinkled one. “ Auntie dear, I shall not 
leave you again till Helen comes to stay. You shall 
not be lonely any more,” she said. Then Mr. Vander- 
meer entered, and at a whisper from Barbara he set 
himself to entertain Miss Ray, so that it was bedtime 
before any one realized it. 

Barbara kept her word; throughout the long sum- 
mer while Isabel was abroad and Roger was working 
away in the West where Mr. Karl was making ready 
a home for wife and parents. Aunt Thankful and Bar- 
bara discussed problems of housekeeping, and at 
Christmas time came Helen and Mr. Palmer to remain. 

Isabel still found the fascinations of Paris too great 
for her to be willing to return, and it was not till spring 
that she was ready to settle down in New York. Then 
there was much consulting and planning for the apart- 
ment down by Washington Square. By his uncle’s 
death Mr. Merrill was removed beyond financial wor- 


TWO WEDDINGS 269 

ries, while Marian Marvin’s legacy built a pretty house 
in the West, to which she went in April. 

During this time Aunt Thankful clung very closely 
to Barbara. Mr. Vandermeer noticed it, and one day, 
when the two were driving home from the station, he 
said, “ How should you like to live in that gray house 
yonder, little girl ?” 

“ I should like it,” said Barbara. “ I used always to 
say that if I had to live in New York I’d like to live 
out of it.” 

“ And your birthday is not on St. Patrick’s Day?” 

No, fair sir, it is in June, as you well know.” 

“ Let us return to the house.” 

“ We are returning to it.” 

“ Literal young woman, you know what I mean. I 
think of buying that mansion to which I called your 
attention. It is within walking distance of the station, 
and except on very dusty Sundays we could walk from 
there to Miss Ray’s.” 

Barbara shook her head at him. “ Bad boy !” 

Boy?” 

“ Yes, boy. Your Aunt Caroline calls you so, and I 
do not intend that she shall have all the privileges of 
the term. Well, boy, I think that is a delightful, per- 
fectly delightful idea of yours. You cannot think how 
I dreaded a flat in New York, even with my good old 
Ike Kellar to help me out.” 

‘‘ I thought so. Why didn’t you tell me ?” 

Because I thought you wanted to be there.” 

'' Not a bit of it. I like what you like.” 

Do you mean your precious self ?” At this mo- 
Uient Dolly stopped short, whether it was because of 


HER VERY BEST 


270 

the answer that Mr. Vandermeer made, or whether 
it was from sheer laziness, no one inquired. In a few 
moments she jogged on again, and before they reached 
home all the details regarding the purchase of the 
house had been discussed. 

“ We’ll spend three months, from January till April, 
in town,” Mr. Vandermeer said. “ That part of the 
year is not an altogether alluring season in the coun- 
try, and we’ll want to see some pictures and hear con- 
certs and operas without being frozen on our way to 
them.” 

Yet they do have blizzards in New York city, if I 
remember correctly.” 

‘‘ Yes, thank goodness, they do. I shall always be 
grateful to the clerk of the weather for having arranged 
one at a propitious time. Here we are. Run in and 
ask Aunt Thankful if she will be willing to lend you a 
lemon or a flat-iron at any time, if we decide to become 
her neighbors.” 

Aunt Thankful was willing to lend or give anything, 
and, indeed, was so generous that Barbara had to pro- 
test when her modest little trousseau promised to be 
supplemented by such a store of linen and lace as could 
find no room in her trunk. 

In the little church near by, the same to which Bar- 
bara had walked that memorable Sunday, she and 
Henry Vandermeer were married one June morning. 
Aunt Thankful stripped her rose-bushes to adorn the 
church and her own house, and the flowers which 
Barbara carried were no hot-house beauties, but were 
simple clusters of Baltimore Belles which Mr. Van- 
dermeer gathered for her. 


TWO WEDDINGS 


271 


It was not till September that they were finally es- 
tablished in their own home, and one morning not 
long after Barbara appeared at Aunt Thankful’s, her 
face dimpling with amusement. “ I have come to bor- 
row a lemon,” she said. “ Isabel and Mrs. Gardner 
and Madge Delorme are coming to lunch with me, and 
I am in a great hurry.” Forthwith Aunt Thankful 
thrust upon her various dainties, so that she went home 
laden down. As she drove her snug little phaeton out 
of the gate there rose and fell upon the air the sonorous 
tones of the ’cello. Her grandfather was playing an 
obligato, that masterpiece of Mendelssohn’s, “ Be thou 
faithful unto death.” Barbara looked back to see Helen 
contentedly watching a bee busy among the blossoms. 


THE END. 





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